Beneath this Sky
by Bedelia
Summary: Nineteen years ago, time unraveled. In a changed world, Bella fights to save a man from the past and a girl with no future. AU.
1. Prologue

**Beneath this Sky**

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_**Disclaimer**: __I don't own Twilight. This is an amateur, non-profit work.  
__**A/N**: __Lattecoug and NinaQ were my betas for this chapter. Enormous thanks to both of them. Chapter 1 will go up as soon as possible. After that, updates will be every other Sunday. Thanks for reading!_

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**Prologue**

Old cars lined both sides of the street: a shantytown of sleeping giants beneath a blanket of white. Some hadn't been moved since the Surge. Others had makeshift curtains hung in the windows, marking them as homes. Even in this frozen place, some people were that desperate.

Snow crunched under her feet as she hurried to catch up with him. The flurries had started at sunset, and already the world looked as though it would be buried under the cold.

Maybe she would let it. She'd been shoveling for so many years, to no avail. Maybe she would finally give up. Let someone else fix everything.

She reached his side as he passed by an old tourist shop that still had a few broken dream catchers dangling in the cracked window. For a few moments, they walked in silence, their black umbrellas bobbing with each step. A man leaned out of a window on the second story of the shop, nicotine-yellowed fingertips clutching a lit cigarette, but he didn't seem to notice the pair below.

"You won't even consider it?" she asked, once she was certain they were out of earshot. It never hurt to be cautious, even when she felt as helpless as those poor souls living in the rusted-out remains of cars.

He sighed. God, she hated that sound. Long-suffering and deep, like listening to her was a chore, like he regretted everything.

"Please don't ask me again," he said. "I gave you my reasons."

With her eyes clenched shut, she swallowed the sob that fought to rise in her chest. "I've been such a fool, haven't I? All this time... Did you ever love me at all?"

Reaching out with his free hand, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop in the shadows. "Love you?" he whispered, his head dipping as if he wanted to kiss her. Instead, he slid his fingers under her chin and brushed his thumb over her cheek, where tears should have been. "How can you doubt it?"

"How can I not?"

His lips moved closer—almost near enough to taste—but he jerked back at the last second. Always the portrait of restraint. One of these days she would make him let go. She would drag him into the storm and watch as he spun out of control. Touching his forehead to hers, he spoke the words that had hung over them, unacknowledged, for far too long.

"I destroyed the world for you."


	2. Ashes, Ashes

_**A/N: **__Batgirl8968 and SecretlySeverus were my betas for this chapter, so thank you to both of them! And thanks to you for reading. As I said in the prologue, updates will be every other Sunday. After the summer is over, I'll probably be able to start updating once a week, but for now it'll have to be every two weeks. Next update: August 19__th__._

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**Ashes, Ashes**

Leah was right; shooting the wolves in the head stopped the healing process. One bullet in the brain and it was over, like a zombie in an old movie. Against Bella's will, a too-familiar scene played out in her mind: the moment she discovered the truth of Leah's theory.

Shivering in spite of the August heat, she shook her head. Meetings with Jake always led her thoughts down paths best left unexplored. Days like this didn't help. The promise of a storm rippled through the air, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Whether it would be a harmless, everyday rainstorm or the _other_ kind, she couldn't say. Some people claimed they could feel it coming on through a tingle in the back of their throat or an ache in an old war injury, but she'd never had any such flashes of intuition.

There had been a storm that day, too. Rain and lightning and a slick trigger.

Looking up, Bella raked a hand through her hair. Cracks branched across the sky like spider webs, scattering the dark clouds. Not the regular kind of storm, then. The accompanying roar disguised itself as the rumble of thunder, but she knew better. Years of experience quickened her steps.

Ducking through the skeleton of a burned-out building brought new sounds: the whisper of ash-padded footsteps, the creak of decay. For the tenth time that morning, her fingers crept into her bag for a blind catalog of her possessions. Keys: check. Wallet: check. Vials: check. Needles: check. No antiseptic or bandages, but she wouldn't need them—not for Jake. A breath froze in her lungs as her index finger slipped over the smooth metal of the gun she'd named for its original owner.

Charlie: check.

As she passed into the forest, her left arm throbbed out a protest. Lugging around a cooler packed with food for four werewolves strained her muscles and slowed her feet. She didn't want to think about how quickly the wolves would tear through the thin meatloaf sandwiches and watery chicken soup. All that work would be gone in a few bites.

A determined ray of sun filtered through clouds and broad leaves, enveloping her in green light. According to locals, all of this had been sagebrush and brown grass before the Surge. Now, it was a lush forest of tangled vines and giant trees, like the world was overflowing with life and energy. Which, she supposed, it was.

She hadn't gone twenty feet before he appeared: a reddish brown wolf, so much bigger than he'd been when Sam was still alive. Smiling, Bella set the cooler at his feet and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Who's a good boy?" she said, scratching behind his ears and laughing when he bumped her on the top of the head with his snout. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. Stuck today, huh?"

He nodded. She'd expected it, given the temperamental weather. Thank goodness he was in his wolf form, this time. Getting trapped in his human skin made him so weak, he could barely drag himself to see her. The days he was able to phase back and forth at will were best—safest—but those had been sparse, of late. With a wolfish approximation of a grimace, Jake pawed at the cooler.

"Yes, I cooked it at their house," Bella said, rolling her eyes toward the shattered sky. "They have all that unused food, and a lot of the stuff in their garden is ready to eat, so—hey, don't give me that look. Plug your nose when you eat it if the smell bothers you so much. For someone who eats raw deer on a regular basis, you're awfully snobby when it comes to food. Can't you just get over this stupid mortal enemies thing? If I can forgive Tyler Crowley for pantsing me in front of the whole fourth grade, you can forgive them for wanting to turn every human they meet into their own personal juice box."

Barking out a laugh, he nuzzled her arm. Bella chose to interpret this as both a thank you and an apology.

"Seriously, though. If you came to the lab, you'd be safer. All of you would." When he offered no response, she dug into her bag for her supplies. "Fine, have it your way. You really should phase into a mule instead of a wolf, you know. Stubborn ass."

While she busied herself with drawing blood from his leg, he rested his head on her shoulder, his hot breath ruffling her hair. Two tubes of blood for research went into her bag, followed by two for Jessica. Before she could thank him, arrange their next meeting place, or send a greeting to the other wolves, dry twigs snapped under marching feet somewhere off to her left.

"Go!" she whispered when Jake tried to place himself between her and the danger. "I'll be fine."

After grabbing the handle of the cooler with his teeth, he dashed off. Bella walked the slow, easy walk of the blameless, one hand on her gun. Just out for a stroll in the woods. Nothing unusual in that.

She didn't see them, but she recognized their voices: Raiders, still drunk from when she'd served them at the bar the night before. The onset of a storm was their hunting horn—their signal to begin sniffing for time travelers and criminals to drag up to Pendle Hill.

This near the edge of town, her employers' home was closer than her own. As soon as Bella's feet reached buckled pavement, she ran. If anyone asked, she could claim she was late for work. The scratchy maid's uniform—Garrett's bright idea—would back her up.

Fiery light shrieked through the clouds and prickled her skin into goosebumps. On second thought, she wouldn't need excuses. Anyone caught out in this weather would be in a hurry to get to shelter. With her ears perked for the warning sirens, she hopped a fence and cut across a pasture. Sedate cows watched her flight, chewing their cud as though nothing had changed since the Surge. Maybe it hadn't, for them.

Against all odds, the sirens never came. Out of breath, she let herself into the familiar converted barn. The interior was light and airy, all white walls and wide windows, but it still held a hint of the sweet, earthy fragrance of hay, like the building remembered its past life.

Long before Bella met her employers, they'd remodeled this place and divided it into three apartments. The first floor belonged to Garrett. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Bella typed 0433 into the keypad that masqueraded as an alarm system. A click from within the broom closet let her know she'd been successful. She picked her way across his messy obstacle course of a living room in the same way she might leap to the safe spaces of asphalt between puddles. Pushing aside the mop and cleaning supplies, she opened the hidden door inside the closet and descended the winding metal staircase to the lab.

Beyond the soundproofing that cushioned the upper floors, the air was layered with metallic clanks, the hum of generators, and Emmett's laugh. The center of the circular room was dominated by the largest of the instruments they used to measure the energy that had altered the world. Stretching from floor to ceiling, it was composed of a caged pole that churned in and out of a hole in the floor.

Thanks to Emmett, the device was affectionately known as Satan's Dildo.

Rosalie sat at the computer, her uniform of dark under-eye circles, hospital scrubs, and tight ponytail already in place. The missing pinky finger on her left hand didn't interfere with her gunfire-fast typing, nor did Bella's entrance.

"Morning," Rosalie said without looking up.

In a move that would've made Jake rant about safety, Bella tugged the end of Rosalie's ponytail and peeked over her shoulder. A forced version of Rosalie's usual smile reminded Bella to keep her distance until she'd changed her clothes and rinsed away the eau de wolf.

"Did you work all night again?" Bella asked.

Even Rosalie's body had to have its limits. One of these days, she would crumble in the middle of the lab, like a cliff eroded by the slow power of wind and sea.

Regaining her composure, Rosalie shrugged. "I took a few breaks."

Liar. Not that Bella had any room to throw stones from within the glass house of secrets she kept.

As Bella stepped away, Emmett gave her a one-armed hug and took her place. He wore his blue eye patch—the one she had sewn for him after secretly deciding his eyes must have been blue when he was human. The silver thread around the edge flashed as he bent his head to whisper something that made one side of Rosalie's mouth lift up. From a platform overhead, Garrett shouted a greeting. Shielding her eyes against the bright lights, Bella looked up and waved. At a long table near Rosalie's desk sat one of the few souvenirs Bella had brought from Forks: Jessica.

"Hey," Bella said, flopping into the chair next to her.

"Hey, yourself. How's Jake?"

"Good." She hoped. "Did you walk all the way from home?"

"Yeah. I skipped through the streets with my shirt off, because I have a death wish."

"Hmph. You should've pranced. Much more dignified."

Grinning, Jessica bumped Bella's shoulder with her own. "Garrett picked me up an hour ago."

"Well, since you're already here, wanna go upstairs and take care of your ointment?"

"Tsk. Always in such a rush to get me topless."

With a wink, Garrett leaned over the railing. "Need any help with that?"

"Nope," Bella said through a laugh, wrapping an arm around Jessica's waist. "She's all mine."

As they climbed to the top floor, Jessica's fingers tightened on the railing with each streak of orange that flashed through the windows. Ice dropped into Bella's stomach. Jessica hadn't mentioned her symptoms progressing to the point of pain brought on by the storms.

Rosalie's apartment had pitched ceilings, dozens of potted purple hyacinths, and the best view in the county. Like always, Jessica paused by the window on the landing and sighed.

"All those trees," she whispered. "Makes me kinda homesick. I never thought I'd actually miss Forks. Ugh. Seven-year-old me would be horrified."

Bella turned away. Without another word, Jessica linked their hands together, like she used to do during the days of slumber parties and Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack all dressed in black, black, black. Back then, involuntary time travel had been the sort of disaster that only happened to other people.

Once they reached Rosalie's bathroom, Jessica stripped out of her t-shirt and tattered cotton bra. Angry red circles with halos of pink marred her chest and back. Had there been so many lesions the day before? Bella's vision wavered. Her mind betrayed her by reciting textbook facts about the advanced stages of Margaret Brown Syndrome. Facts she wanted to ignore—or better yet, change. Facts like the likelihood of Jessica surviving another year.

"All right," Jessica said, sitting on the stool in front of the vanity and helping herself to one of Rosalie's hair-ties. "Do your worst."

After scrubbing her hands and snapping a pair of rubber gloves into place, Bella retrieved the jar of ointment from its shelf. A scent like pine mixed with paint thinner smacked her in the face the instant she cracked the lid. Bracing one hand against Jessica's shoulder, she went to work rubbing the yellow goo over each of the red marks.

"Blech," Jessica said. "I will never get used to this crap." Tilting her head to one side, she glared at the mirror. "If Garrett could see me now, he wouldn't regret being left out."

"Yes, he would." Bella squeezed her friend's arm, her ointment-coated fingers leaving a greasy trail behind. "You're beautiful."

Jessica's pursed mouth softened into an almost-smile. "Well, I guess the big tits help."

"They can't hurt."

"Yeah, right. Tell that to my back."

As their laughter faded into cozy silence, Jessica began to sway back and forth—a sure sign the ointment was taking effect. Bella held her as steady as she could. Each lesion received a loose dressing of gauze, which Jessica claimed made her look like a demented, half-plucked chicken. After helping Jessica to shrug into the bathrobe she kept at Rosalie's, Bella led her out to the bed. The sheets were already turned down in invitation.

"Mm." Jessica sighed, burrowing beneath the quilt. "I could... I could live in this bed, y'know?"

Another breath, and she was out. Bella smoothed the covers: the echo of a mother tucking her child in, chasing bad dreams away. Against the backdrop of blue cotton, Jessica looked pale and fragile. Keeping her gaze on her friend, Bella retrieved one of the samples of Jake's blood from her bag.

Strange stuff, werewolf blood. Exposing it to cold temperatures was the only way to spoil it—at least, the only way Bella had found. Jessica desperately needed its healing powers. They'd left it too long this time, but breaking out the syringes while in a house full of vampires was out of the question. It would have to wait a little longer. When Bella saw Jake again, she would take as much as he could spare.

In the adjoining kitchen, she found a note from Rosalie, telling her to go ahead and use as much flour and sugar as she wanted, along with the eggs from Mrs. Harris and a long list of produce from the garden.

Not for the first time, Bella wondered if the vampires downstairs suspected her of knowing what they were. Just because Jake wasn't supposed to tell her about them, it didn't mean they would believe he hadn't. Rosalie had to know. She barely bothered to conceal the way she gave away all of their food. Their secret hovered in every room of the old barn, as big as Jake and forever unacknowledged.

Donning her apron, Bella shoved thoughts of illness and supernatural beings from her head. This part of the day was hers alone. While Jessica slept—safe and within easy reach—Bella lost herself in stirring, baking, and sautéing. She measured peace in tablespoons, meditated through a cloud of flour.

As Bella piled Tupperware care packages for the wolves into the freezer, Jessica whimpered in her sleep. If she continued to get worse, Bella would have to ask Rosalie for help. She couldn't watch her friend fade into a shadow, not when she _knew_.

Once she made that request, would Jake ever speak to her again?

.

.

"It doesn't make any sense," Rosalie said, rubbing her forehead the way she always did when trying to work out a solution. "The pulses are getting stronger—have been for the past two years—but as far as I can tell, no recent time travelers have been taken into custody. Look at this: a guy from 1997, arrived in 2003. A kid they think is from the 1950s, arrived in 2010. This woman from 1933 arrived during the first wave of the Surge in 1996. She didn't develop Margaret Brown's until last year, so she stayed hidden for a long time. It goes on and on like this. None got here later than 2013. Why isn't it pulling people through time if it's getting stronger?"

Emmett propped his arms on a high rung of a ladder. "Maybe the Raiders are getting better at catching them?" When this theory was met with a scowl from Rosalie, he added, "Or maybe the police are. Anything's possible."

Bella wasn't sure which was worse: being executed by a group of superstitious lunatics, or being locked in a government facility to be prodded and psychoanalyzed and dissected. Same end result, by all accounts, but the Raiders got the job done faster.

In most cases.

"Maybe it's to do with stability," Jessica said. "Like, it's getting stronger, but it's not as unbalanced? I don't know. When it happened to me, it felt... It sounds stupid to say disorienting. Duh, I suddenly skipped ahead ten years. Of course it was disorienting, but that's the only word I can think of. That's how the energy felt—like it was off-balance. Maybe it's not, anymore."

Rosalie shook her head. "Judging by our readings, it's still pretty erratic. If we could find some way to channel it into—"

With a choked noise, her words slid into quick breaths. All of the vampires in the lab looked toward the ceiling.

"Three," Garrett said, "and one of them."

Jessica frowned. "What's going—"

With one finger over her lips, Rosalie placed her body between the humans and the entrance.

"Can you get them out?" Emmett asked her, his gaze darting toward the one-way emergency exit that led to the garage.

"I don't know."

"Try," Garrett said. Something else followed through his moving lips, but to human ears it sounded like a whoosh of air.

Bella fumbled for the cold gun at the bottom of her bag. Keeping her breaths slow and measured, she willed her hands to be steady. She could do this. A quiver shot through her arms, betraying her as the lab door opened.

Would the vampires lose control if she had to shoot the human? All she could do was pray they loved her and Jessica well enough to see through the fog of blood lust and remember who they were.

"Is that who I think it is?" Emmett asked, his hands balling into fists.

Some of the tension melted out of Rosalie's posture. "I think so."

The hands that had been poised to grab Bella and Jessica fell back to Rosalie's sides. Four strangers marched down the stairs. Three vampires led the party, just as Garrett had predicted: two male, one female. Bella kept her weapon trained on the human of the group: a man with reddish hair. His easy smile vanished.

A long breath from Garrett quaked into a laugh. While he and Emmett remained frozen, Rosalie ran toward the newcomers. Shoving her way past the others, she threw herself at the shorter of the male vampires. The force of her embrace sent him toppling into a chuckling heap.

"Hello to you, too," he said, kissing her cheek. "Oh, it's been too long."

Garrett swept the female into a hug, her blond curls almost hiding his smile as he spun her around. Emmett snapped out of his daze and greeted the remaining vampire with a clap of his shoulder. Only the human was left out of the reunion. As he strode toward Bella and Jessica, his lopsided grin made another appearance. Though Bella had lowered the gun, it still occupied her right hand. He offered her his left.

"Hello," he said. "I'm Edward."


	3. Thursday's Child

_**A/N:**__Trilby97 and TDS88 were my betas for this chapter. Thanks to both of them. :) I messed around with it quite a bit after they sent it back to me, so any mistakes are mine. Thanks for reading! Next update: September 2._

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**Thursday's Child**

Edward's hands told the story of his profession. Years of engine grease had settled into the lines, creating a map of repaired machines. Another story began at his wrists, swirling up to his elbows in bright patches of color. The pictures etched into his skin spoke a language Bella didn't yet know. As his hand hovered in the air between them, her gaze traced his tattoos: a frayed rope, a seashell, a city skyline, a pair of initials, a bird in flight.

"Hi," Jessica said, stepping in to accept the handshake. "I'm Jessica. This is my friend, Bella. Don't worry; she won't shoot. Bella, seriously, put the gun away."

Half-laughing, half-scoffing, Bella kept her weapon right where it was, though she did accept Edward's hand when he offered it a second time. Jessica smiled at him, doing that little lip biting thing she did when trying to make a guy think she was cute and vulnerable.

Some things never changed. As usual, Jessica's intended prey was far too old for her. He looked like he was in his late twenties—maybe a year or two older than Bella. A thin scar ran from the bridge of his nose to his cheekbone, bisecting a freckle. He was tall enough to make her feel short, even next to tiny Jessica. And he smiled like he'd invented it, like he was the first person in the history of the world to discover the contagious nature of grins.

"I'm sorry if we startled you," he said, his fingers and palm rough against Bella's. "Jasper tried to call earlier, but he couldn't get through."

Jessica wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. The lines always go down during storms out here. One of the many benefits of living in the middle of freaking nowhere. Anyway, it's nice to meet you. Do you work with Tanya and Irina, or...?"

"They're from the Chesterton office," Emmett said as he moved to stand behind Bella and Jessica. Looming over them, bigger than anything, he stared at Edward. "I thought they weren't visiting until next month, though."

Bella's pulse kicked into double-time. While Rosalie's branch of their organization focused on returning time to its previous state and putting the monster back in its cage, the people in Chesterton, Indiana researched a possible cure for Margaret Brown Syndrome. For months, Bella had been trying to find a safe way to get a sample of werewolf blood to them.

Introductions were made all around. The female vampire was Mary Atwood. The silent male who cocked his head and looked back and forth between Bella and Rosalie was Jasper Whitlock, and the remaining vampire—the one who kept his hand on Rosalie's shoulder—was Carlisle Cullen.

_Doctor_ Cullen. Bella had heard of the others in passing, but she knew Carlisle's entire body of work. He was the one who developed the ointments and pills that had added precious months to Jessica's life.

Stranger or no, vampire or no, Bella could have kissed him.

"Had to close up a bit early," Mary said. "The town was crawling with Feds. They were starting to get suspicious."

Garrett hopped up to sit on a high counter, waving his arm at the lab as if the clanking machines made up all of Pendleton. "Not much better around here. Just switch Feds for Raiders."

"You should think about relocating soon as well," Carlisle said. "It's time, don't you think?"

Panic fluttered in Bella's chest: a trapped bird beating against her ribs. Would they take her and Jessica with them, or would they use the opportunity to honor their laws and sever all ties? Leaving Tanya and Irina had been easy; Bella had only worked with them for a few months, and she'd had bigger things to worry about during her escape—bigger things exiling her from Forks. This was different. She couldn't start over in another branch of their organization. Not again.

Frowning, Rosalie inspected her fingernails. "Not yet. I think we're on the verge of a breakthrough. I need at least another year here."

"Sure, no problem," Mary said. "We'll just tell the Raiders to please sit tight until Rose gets what she wants. I'm sure they'll be completely reasonable."

Jasper kept watching Bella. It was subtle, conducted in sidelong glances, but she noticed it. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades: an annoying itch, just like his stare. Being so many feet below ground didn't offer any relief from the heat. With so many engines whirring—so much energy pulsing around the lab—it was never cold.

Emmett slipped an arm around Rosalie's waist, tugging her against his side. "If they try to break in here, Rose just can charm them into submission."

"Yeah, because glaring at them would charm their pants off," Garrett said, followed by a yelp when Rosalie punched his shoulder.

"Call me old-fashioned," Mary said, "but in that scenario, I'd rather use violence."

Rosalie smirked. "Me too."

While the vampires continued their bickering, Jessica motioned for Edward to take a seat at her table. As his chair legs scraped against the cement floor, a machine behind Bella whistled into action to take its hourly reading. Standing so close to it send a tickling vibration up her neck and through her ears, like she'd driven over a cattle guard.

"So," Jessica said, "Edward, right? What do you do?"

His hands folded on the chipped veneer of the table, next to a doodle of a heart. "I'm a repairman, mostly. I'm the one Mary yells at when things stop working."

"That's cool. I'm just an assistant. Bella is too, but she does some research of her own. Are you going to be staying here, or...?"

If Jessica offered him a place to sleep on their couch, Bella would strangle her.

"No. I think the others are, but I got a room in a boarding house."

Emmett broke away from his own discussion to snicker. "There's only one boarding house in town. You're staying at that place that used to be a bordello? The Working Girls Hotel? _Nice_."

Jessica's smile brightened. "Oh, that's in the historic district, right? If you want, I could show you around sometime. One of our neighbors used to work for the old tour company, back before the Surge, and she's told me a lot about it."

"Um. That would be... nice." Edward pressed his lips together as if trying to swallow a laugh. In a hushed tone, he added, "How old are you?"

"She's seventeen," Bella said before Jessica could try to mislead him by saying she was born in 1987. Had Jessica lived her time straight through, like Bella, she would've been twenty-seven.

Jessica gave Bella's arm a light shove. "Thanks, _Mom_. Yes, I'm seventeen. How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine. I—"

Rosalie cut off whatever Edward was about to say with an announcement that they should all get back to work instead of sitting around and wasting the whole day. As she returned to her first love—her computer—she began firing off orders, directing the newcomers to complete various tasks on her to-do list.

Bella chuckled to herself. Some things definitely never changed.

.

.

"Doctor Cullen?" Bella said as she approached him during a rare quiet moment.

He offered her the gentlest smile she'd ever seen on a vampire. "Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle, then. Could I speak to you alone for a minute?"

He followed her outside, into air that still sizzled from the storm. Bella imagined the energy curling around her: long fingers of orange that threatened to catch her by the throat and squeeze until she woke up in some other time. In the aftermath of the storms, it was so easy to picture the claws reaching back through the years and selecting victims, like the energy was a sentient being. The bursts of flame colored light now fading out of view over Pendle Hill seemed like something solid—something she could shoot just to watch the pieces fall.

When Bella and Carlisle reached the edge of the forest, she presented him with the two vials of Jake's blood that she'd intended to use for research. His nostrils flared.

"A friend of mine has blood that can alleviate the symptoms of Margaret Brown's," she said. "I figured it out when he donated some to a sufferer. They're the same blood type." She wondered if he could sense her half-truths in her shallow breaths and the thrum of her pulse. "The effect seems to be temporary, no matter how much we use. I've been researching it and trying to work out a way to make it last longer, but to be honest, I don't know enough. It'd take me years to be qualified to really work on this, and I don't _have_ years. I was hoping you might look into it. I can get more samples when you need them."

Carlisle nodded. "I'd be happy to. Would your friend be willing to come to the lab while I'm here?"

"Ah, no, probably not. He sticks to the woods, for the most part. He's had some trouble with Raiders in the past, so it's safer for him to remain out of sight. You know how it is. Once you get accused of something, the Raiders tend to hang first, ask questions later."

Jake would sooner march up to Pendle Hill and turn himself over before he let a vampire experiment on him. When Bella started taking his blood, he'd forced her to swear she wouldn't give any samples to Rosalie and the others. Anything to do with blood and Bella's employers made a growl start in his chest, even when he was in his human form. Maybe he thought they could use it against him somehow—use it to find his weaknesses, as if his Achilles' heel was located in his red blood cells. Bella didn't know. He would have to forgive her now that Carlisle was around. Some things were more important than promises.

"Yes, I understand," Carlisle said. "Well, if he changes his mind—"

"I'll let you know."

.

.

Just before sunset, Garrett took Jessica and Bella back to their place. As always, Jessica called shotgun and spent the entire drive giggling when he purposely touched her knee as he shifted gears. Bella rested her head against the tinted window and watched Garrett's dark eyes in the rear-view mirror. Maybe she would ask him to change Jessica, if it came to that. Rosalie had always been the obvious choice; she had the best control. She never held her breath during hugs. Then again, she also never made Jessica smile like she was all lit up inside.

Home was a single-wide trailer: a tin can that baked in the summer; froze in the winter; and was decorated in a 1970's nightmare of brown, yellow, and avocado green. Pots of weeds sat on either side of the creaky wooden steps. They would've contained tomatoes and peppers if Bella had remembered to water them. A heap of a truck sat in the carport. Thanks to the miracle of Rosalie's skills as a mechanic, the heap still ran on days when Garrett was unable to act as chauffeur.

"Want me to wait?" Garrett asked.

"Nah," Bella said. "The storm's passed. I'd like to walk and get some fresh air. You go ahead."

Saying the lie without tacking a sharp laugh onto the end was a struggle. Slogging through the heat to reach her second job would bring as much fresh air as a hermetically sealed coffin.

"All right," Garrett said, twisting in his seat to tap the end of Jessica's nose. "See you later."

Inside the trailer, Bella watched through the dust-clouded kitchen window as Garrett's car disappeared down the gravel road. Once he was safely out of sight—and, more importantly, out of the range of smelling Jessica's blood—she began preparing a syringe.

"Oh, joy," Jessica said, sliding over to make room for Bella on their threadbare couch—another relic from the '70's. "Time to shoot up. I always feel like we should be in a seedy alley or down by the docks when we do this."

"The docks?" Bella looped a belt around Jessica's arm and pulled it tight. "We're three hundred miles from the ocean. Pendleton doesn't have docks."

"Don't be such a pedant. I was thinking of ambiance."

A pair of gloves went on Bella's hands, and an alcohol wipe slid over Jessica's skin. As soon as Bella stuck her with the needle and pushed the plunger, warmth spread up Jessica's arm and blossomed on her cheeks in a pretty blush. For the next few hours, as Jake's blood flooded her system and the sores on her chest and back faded, her temperature would climb into a mild fever. Bella discarded the gloves and washed away the horrible powdery residue they left behind.

"For the record," Jessica said as she reclined on the couch with a little sigh, "I wasn't going to try to _do_ anything with Edward. I just wanted to, y'know, look at him a bit more, like I do with Garrett. And Emmett, come to think of it. And probably Jasper and Carlisle, too. God, do you think I have a vampire fetish? Anyway, it's just eye candy. Completely harmless. And yummy."

Bella fought a smirk and lost the battle. "Edward _is_ fairly easy on the eyes, I'll give you that."

"I want to turn that into an innuendo, but I can't think of a good one. I'd be easy for his eyes? No, that's stupid." She shuddered. "And it gives me mental images of some sort of weird eye sex. Eww."

A little snort of a laugh found its way through Bella's lips as she returned to the couch. "I wonder about you sometimes."

"I love you sometimes." A copy of Jake's old sunshine smile spread across Jessica's face. Using his blood always had that effect, like she carried a bit of his personality around in her veins, glowing through her skin.

"Yeah?" With gentle fingers, Bella tucked a stray curl behind Jessica's ear. "Well, I love you always."

Jessica cuddled closer, resting her cheek on her friend's knee for a few seconds before she said, "Okay, enough mush. Go on, go to work. Make lots of tips."

"Ugh, I'll try. It's been mostly Raiders the past few weeks. Stingy bastards. I guess being evil doesn't pay well these days."

"Hmm, damn. I was thinking of becoming a super-villain. I'd even begun sketching my lair. But if there's no money in it, I suppose I'll have to settle for being one of the good guys. Lame. Their outfits are never as fun."

"Was I going to be part of your evil team? A minion or something?"

"Second-in-command, of course. I was going to let you rule a country or two when I took over the world." Yawning, Jessica peeled off her socks and tossed them into the corner of the room, where they would undoubtedly remain until Bella badgered her to pick them up. "I had a very cunning plan, too. Foolproof. No silly monologues just as I caught the hero. Plus, I was going to give you Edward at the end of it."

"How generous of you."

"Yeah, well. What with me being High Queen of Everything, I'd probably have ten guys in my... Hmm." Jessica's eyebrows drew together. "Is there a word for a male version of a harem? Whatever. Doesn't matter. The point is I could spare one hot guy for my Vice Queen of Awesome."

Bella laughed. "Well, thanks."

"Anytime. You could use a little bit of fun with a pretty boy. Oh, but I'd keep Garrett in this scenario, so don't even think about it. I don't care if he _is_ old. I'd still want him in my man-harem. My marem? Yes!" Jessica jabbed the air with her index finger. "My marem. Perfect word for it."

"Did you forget that he'd probably break you in half and drain your blood if you tried to have any fun with him?"

"Nope. That's the best part about being High Queen of Everything. I could just order him not to bite me or squeeze me until my eyes pop out, and he'd have to obey." She wrinkled her nose. "And now I'm back to the eye sex image."

"Ah, it all comes full circle." Standing up, Bella grabbed her bag from the hook by the door and emptied it of everything incriminating, save the gun. Charlie went everywhere with her. "If you change your mind and take over the world before I get back, tape the carnage for me so I don't miss out."

"Even the stuff with Garrett?"

"Not if there's eye sex involved."

"Tsk. You are _so_ vanilla."

"Don't make me get you an ocular chastity belt." Stooping over, Bella gave Jessica a quick hug. "Okay, now I really do have to go."

"Bye! If Edward comes into the bar, see if you can bounce a quarter off of his ass for me."

"Ha. For you? I'll do that for myself. See you later."

As she walked to the bar, Bella watched the forest that surrounded the town, searching for Jake's hulking shape in the thick shadows. Most days, he got as close to the trailer park as he dared in order to keep an eye on Jessica while Bella was out. It always eased Bella's mind knowing he was there, making sure Jessica didn't get dragged off by Raiders or disappear for another ten years—not that he could do anything about the latter. Today, he was nowhere to be seen. Had he been caught?

No, that couldn't be it. He'd been stuck in his wolf form that morning. He could fight back.

Emmett and Garrett's bar was located in what used to be the local bowling alley. The sign above the entrance still said, "Rodeo Lanes." Only the drugstore next door had survived the looting that followed the Surge; all of the other nearby shops had long-since been demolished. Market stalls stood on the graves of those buildings: a hodgepodge of carts and counters beneath tents, hawking everything from bogus anti-time travel charms to secondhand baby clothes.

Opening time wasn't for another ten minutes, but Adam, a regular, already sat on the second stool from the left at the bar, drinking a glass of Emmett's mead. Inside the kitchen, Garrett's perfect singing mingled with the hiss of frozen potatoes meeting hot grease, right on schedule: a sodium-laden dessert to follow Adam's dinner of alcohol.

"Hi, sugar," Adam said in the slow, drawling way that sometimes made her wonder if he was from a different time.

"Hey. How've you been?"

"Can't complain."

"Bullshit. You can complain better than anyone I know."

He treated her to one of his rare laughs: a breathy, hushed sound, like he was trying to whisper his amusement. "What about you? You look tired."

"Aww, you sweet talker. That's just what every girl longs to hear."

Dimples broke out on his ruddy cheeks as his mouth rose in a grin. "Heh. I try. They working you to death out there?"

"Nah. I can always make Jessica do most of the cleaning if I get worn out."

"Till you get here and Tom makes you do all of the work, right?"

"Isn't _that_ the truth?" Rolling her eyes, she patted his shoulder. "I'll be back out in a minute."

Bella let herself into the back room—the one seldom used by anyone but her. Like the rest of the bar, it had mismatched floor tiles where thin carpet and scuffed wood used to be, all scavenged from the wreckage of other buildings. The wood paneling on the walls had held up through the Surge and looked much the same as it probably had nineteen years earlier. That stuff was too ugly to die.

After locking the door, she shimmied out of the dark blue pants and tunic she wore when pretending to be a maid. The mirror on the far wall threw Adam's words back at her: _You look tired_. The clumpy, ancient mascara and homemade lip balm she kept in her locker wouldn't do much to make her look more awake, but they'd have to do.

By the time she changed, whisked a brush through her hair, and stowed her gun in the ankle holster she wore under her boots, another stool at the bar had been filled. Edward sat next to Adam, chatting about the highlights of some football game that had appeared on the TV in the corner. The solemn face of a reporter interrupted the second replay of a touchdown, a line of static slicing through her midsection, followed by fuzzy images of American soldiers fighting in a faraway desert.

Bella shook her head. Along with death and taxes, war and football could always be counted on to endure in this world.

"Hey," she said to Edward as she slipped behind the bar. "What can I get you?"

"Oh, um. Whatever he's having."

Through the haze that always hung over the bar, even when no smokers were present, the mead looked darker, like liquid rosewood. The fog didn't dim Edward's eyes, though; those were the same light, clear green they'd been in the lab.

"You gonna be in town long, kid?" Adam asked Edward.

He shrugged. "Not sure, yet. Maybe. It all depends on what my friends decide."

"Well, don't run off without saying goodbye."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Edward's smile widened, including Bella in its warmth as she placed one of the nicer, unchipped glasses in front of him. "Thank you." He tilted forward on the stool to pull his wallet from his back pocket, but Adam stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"This one's on me. Put it on my tab, Bella."

Thank goodness. If Edward had used any quarters to pay, Bella wouldn't have been able to suppress a giggle. Damn Jessica. The girl was like a human version of the Surge, transporting Bella back to the days when they were both teenagers.

"Will do," she said. "Do you two know each other?"

"Yeah," Edward said. One of his long fingers followed a drop of condensation on its journey down the side of his glass. "For about eight years now."

"Wow. Small world," was all she could think to say.

"Mm." Edward paused to take a swig of his drink. "So, Bella. I ended up in the garage earlier, and I have to ask you something. What are the odds of Rosalie ever allowing me to drive her car? Bear in mind, you will break my heart if you say it's impossible."

Another of Adam's chuckles breezed through his lips—almost loud, for him. Bella couldn't contain her own laughter.

"Oh, please let me be there when you ask her," she said. "Not that I want to see your heart get crushed. I just want to watch her reaction. With a video camera, if possible."

Grinning into his glass, Edward raised his eyebrows. "So that's a maybe, then?"

"You've got a better chance of convincing Emmett to come to work in a tutu every day for a month," Adam said.

Bella took out a rag and wiped the bar to make it look like she was doing something other than talking. "No,_ that_ would be easy. He'd do it if you double-dog dared him. He'd probably even color coordinate the tutu with his eye patch."

A creak of the front door admitted Bella's coworker, Tom, into the bar and temporarily restored her faith in miracles. For once, he was on time for his shift. He offered her a jerk of his chin by way of a greeting, but said nothing to Adam and Edward. Passing through the bar, he went out the back door and into the alley. Less than a minute on the job, and already he was taking a break. That had to be a new record.

Customers began to trickle in. Bella soon found herself rushing around, filling order after order. Once Tom returned, she did what she could to make him deal with those who wore red armbands marking them as Raiders, but the sheer number of them made it impossible. Acid churned in her stomach as she watched glasses pile up in front of three men in particular. Unless the space between them was conspiring with her imagination and distorting their voices, they were the ones she'd heard in the forest that morning.

"Bella, clear that table," Tom said.

He was not her boss. Emmett and Garrett were, and they always said please. Still, if she didn't do it, it probably wouldn't get done. As she crossed the smoky room, Bella forced a chant to roll through her head.

_I will not kill the sheriff's son. I will not kill the sheriff's son._

Given his father's position in the community, it always struck Bella as funny that Tom was employed by a pair of vampires who broke hundreds of laws on a daily basis. Not to mention the fact that said vampires ran what was quickly becoming a watering hole for Raiders. Bella wished she could think of a way to prevent _that_ from happening. What were they going to do, throw the Raiders out? The bar was supposed to be their cover—their way of lying low and appearing to be ordinary, law-abiding citizens. Refusing to serve Raiders wouldn't do much to promote that image.

"I'm just saying, have you ever seen one from the future?" one of the Raiders said to his friends as Bella approached. An anti-time travel charm dangled from a string around his neck: a cotton pouch that probably contained the bones of a tiny rodent and other such charming items. It could hold earwax and pre-chewed bubblegum, for all the good it would do him. No amount of superstition would keep him glued to the present.

Fake smile in place, Bella stacked up the empty glasses. If she added food coloring to their beverage of choice and claimed it would prevent time travel, would they pay extra? Could make up for the lack of tips.

"I don't exactly ask their life story," one of the others said, addressing his smirk to Bella's breasts. "If they've been messing with that shit, that's all I need to know. Let 'em swing."

Morons. No one with any sense _wanted_ to time travel—not when nearly everyone who made the leap ended up with lesion-spotted skin and, eventually, multiple organ failure. And yet, the Raiders persisted in believing that the time travelers did this to themselves—that people like Jessica were to blame for the Surge and the following storms. Well, time travelers and those who conducted forbidden experiments. Jessica was both. After every attempt to contain the energy only quickened the spread, regulations had popped up faster than conspiracy theories. The lab obeyed almost none of them.

On auto-pilot, she dropped the glasses off in the kitchen and returned to her post. Adam had vanished, but Edward was still there. With Emmett and Garrett busy elsewhere, he was the closest thing she had to a friendly face.

"Anything else?" she asked him.

"I'm good, thanks," he said, his voice as quiet as it could be without getting lost in the noisy bar. "I was just about to head back to the boarding house. I have another question of probability for you, though."

"Okay, shoot."

"Me versus those guys in a fight." His gaze darted toward the Raiders at the table she'd just cleared. "What would my odds be?"

Maybe he was only trying to get on her good side, but she couldn't help it. She smiled.

"I don't know. Are you any good?"

"At fighting?" A crease appeared between his eyebrows. He drummed his fingers against his knees, keeping time with the conversations that roared all around them. "I suppose I am."

Resting her forearms on the bar, Bella glanced between Edward and the rowdy table of drunks. One corner of his mouth lifted, like he was challenging her instead of them.

"No contest," she said. "I'd bet on you."

.

.

The next morning, when Bella emerged from Rosalie's bathroom with a dozy Jessica, she found Edward sitting at the counter, sipping from a steaming mug and leafing through a book.

"Sorry," he said, jumping to his feet. "Emmett said I could find coffee up here. I didn't realize..."

"It's okay," Jessica said, tightening the sash on her bathrobe. "Not like I'm naked or anything. Bella could probably use the company, anyway."

No, Bella could not use the company—not during her morning escape. Edward kept his eyes averted while Bella helped her friend into bed. There was no way he didn't know what Jessica was, now. Not when the scent of the ointment practically made cartoon stink lines appear in the air above her. He'd worked in the lab that produced that ointment, tinkering with the machines and breathing in that smell every day. Bella frowned. Being part of their organization didn't mean much. He was still a stranger, still a threat.

"Are you sure I'm not imposing?" he whispered as Bella washed her hands.

"It's fine. Go ahead and drink your coffee."

Retrieving the mixture of water, honey, and yeast she'd set aside before applying Jessica's ointment, Bella began to add the dry ingredients. It wasn't until she turned the dough out onto the counter that she looked at Edward again. He shuddered as he swallowed a mouthful of black coffee.

"Help yourself to some sugar, if you want," she said. "There's enough. And there's some cream in the fridge."

On the first try, he opened the freezer instead of the fridge. They were separate units, both built for holding almost enough food for Bella's wolves. Edward stood there for a moment, gaping at the overloaded shelves.

"Wow. You cook a lot, don't you?"

Another turn of the sticky dough, another sprinkle of flour. "Yeah. It's my therapy."

"Would you like some help? I know it's a bit soon for couple's therapy, since we just met yesterday, but..."

He trailed off with another one of his lopsided smiles. Bella looked at her dough.

"Hmm, I don't know," she said. "Are you any good?"

"I am, as a matter of fact. One of my foster mothers was an excellent cook. She taught me well."

"All right. Make whatever you want, but you have to freeze three-quarters of it. That's my only rule."

"Deal. Let's see here." Rifling through drawers and cabinets, he began to gather ingredients, coffee apparently forgotten. The discovery of a small, foil-wrapped packet made him cheer. "You have chocolate!"

"Just that bit there. Not really enough for much of anything."

"No, no, I can use this. If that's okay, I mean. Does Rosalie like chocolate?"

Bella's lips wanted to curve into a knowing grin, but she refused to allow them. "I'm not sure. She might."

"I guess we'll find out." Rubbing his hands together like he was plotting to join Jessica in her imaginary adventures as a super-villain, he surveyed his pile of ingredients.

While Bella placed her dough in a greased bowl to rise, Edward creamed butter and sugar together and cracked eggs with one hand. She craned her neck and peeked in his bowl to check for shells, but found none.

"What are you making?" she asked.

"A masterpiece." Turning away, he hunched over the bowl as if protecting a trade secret. "Oh, by the way, I have another question of probability for you."

"If it's about Emmett and the tutu, I meant what I said. Just double-dog dare him, and there isn't much he won't do."

"In that case, I'll double-dog dare him to give me Rosalie's keys."

"Like she'd let him have a copy. Anyway, your question?"

"Yeah." His stirring ceased as he rubbed the back of his neck. "What are the odds of me getting out of that tour Jessica wants to give me? Better or worse than the odds of me ending up behind the wheel of Rosalie's car?"

Another smile threatened to break loose. "Hard to say. I think it's pretty even."

"Okay." A teaspoon of imitation vanilla went into his mix. "Then what are the chances of me convincing you to come along on said tour to protect my virtue?"

A noise that was part snore, part giggle came from the bed. If Jessica was actually asleep, Bella would get Rosalie's keys herself and hand them over to Edward. Hell, she'd even give him a wad of gas money and enough ration coupons for a full tank.

"Don't worry," she said. "I have it on good authority that she doesn't intend to add you to her man-harem. Your virtue will remain intact."

.

.

"What is this?" Rosalie asked, looking askance at the corner of her desk. A frilly confection topped with chocolate shavings sat there, waiting to be eaten.

"A cupcake," Edward said.

"Yes, I can see that. What is it doing on my desk?"

"It's for you."

Rosalie stared at him as though he'd just offered her a sip of Jake's blood. "Oh. Thanks."

"I'll take it if you don't want it, Rose," Jessica said around a mouthful of her own cupcake. "Oh, my God, Edward. If I had the money, I would hire you to come bake things for me all day, every day. Ooh, hey, do you want to look around the historic district later? Bella and I get off at noon today, and she doesn't have to work at the bar. She could come with us."

Edward hesitated for only a second before he smiled. "I'd love to."

"Great! Bella, bring quarters."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Just so we're clear: Mary isn't short for Mary Alice. Remember the nomad, Mary, who showed up in BD? Yeah, I didn't either until I went searching for an unattached female nomad. _

_Rodeo Lanes and The Working Girls Hotel are both real places. Pendle Hill is as well, though this particular Pendle Hill has a different name in our world. More on that later._


	4. Little Boy Blue

_**A/N: **__Early update! I forgot until about 20 minutes ago that I likely won't have much time to post a chapter this Sunday. Oops. Lezlee and 4MeJasper were my betas for this chapter, so huge thanks to both of them. I messed with it a little after I got it back, so any mistakes are mine. And thanks to you for reading! :) Next update: September 16th_

* * *

**Little Boy Blue**

Chicken wire and yellow caution tape had replaced a few of the missing safety rails on the bridge. Bella gave the rusty mess a wide berth, walking on the curb like she used to do when she was still young enough to pretend to be a tightrope walker. Several yards beneath her balancing act, the Umatilla River flowed past―just a trickle compared to what it had been during spring. Over the past year, Eastern Oregon had seen too many storms that made sirens wail and too few that brought rain or snow.

"Temporal events" was what they called them on the news―the term used by scientists. Like most people, Bella referred to them as "storms" in a low voice that made it obvious she wasn't talking about hail. Jessica frequently called them "pains in the ass."

Grinning, Jessica hopped onto the curb and joined in the tightrope walk.

"There are a bunch of tunnels underneath the historic district," she said, bracing her hand on Edward's shoulder when she stumbled. "Our neighbor says that some people tried to hide out down there during the Surge. They got fried during the second wave, cause, y'know, underground isn't exactly the smartest place to be during a storm. The tunnels are all closed up now, but they used to take tourists down there when they showed them around the old bordellos and saloons and stuff."

"Huh," Edward said. "Sure seems to have been a lot of bordellos in this town."

Bella laughed. "Well, what else were they going to do for entertainment way back when?"

"Cow tipping," Jessica said. "Or, um. Hmm. Nope. If they were around here, that's all I've got."

A few patches of the historic district had fared better than the rest of the town over the years, helped along by the efforts of the Preservation Society. Brick buildings that had been around since the town was a dusty watering hole for covered wagons now featured new arched windows and freshly painted doors. Signs with the Preservation Society's little green logo were everywhere. _Save the Bowman Hotel! Save the Hendricks Building! _ Even though she loved the historic district, Bella had never given them a cent.

Across the river, a group of children scampered around the grass surrounding a church. A boy with sandy blond hair knelt as if receiving a blessing from the girl who attempted to scribble on his face with a stubby red crayon.

"Ow!" he said. "That's not gonna work."

The artist fished around in a stained canvas bag, eventually emerging with a tube of lipstick that looked twice as old as her. Holding her friend's chin steady, she dotted his face with pink and then circled each of the marks: rings around the roses. One by one, she created bull's-eyes that mimicked the lesions of Margaret Brown Syndrome, if not their precise location.

Bull's-Eye Kid roared at his friends and lumbered toward them, arms outstretched. Ashes, ashes, they'd all fall down.

The artist squealed. "Eww! He has Doc Brown Disease!"

Unfortunate, Bella thought, that the first time traveler to suffer any ill effects had been _Doctor_ Margaret Brown. It didn't matter that the kids had probably never seen _Back to the Future_. The colloquial name for Margaret Brown Syndrome had been around as long as the syndrome itself, and it was just as unlikely to vanish.

Jessica averted her eyes. "Bella, do you have the coupon book and your card?"

"Yeah, why?"

"That cupcake started a craving. I want to waste some of my paycheck on more empty calories."

The nearest grocery store was Miller's: a haven of bright lights, air conditioning, and almost-fresh produce that Bella sometimes visited with Rosalie or Emmett. Her own household was registered at Oregon Trail Grocery, almost a mile away. They could only purchase non-rationed items from Miller's, and anything categorized as "empty calories" was sure to be rationed. Taking Jessica by the hand, Bella twirled her around and motioned for Edward to follow them. It was one of Jessica's good days, and those were to be taken advantage of to the fullest. For once, she was capable of making the walk.

The harsh afternoon sun chased them the whole way, beating down on their necks. When they reached the sloppy, homemade sign welcoming them to Oregon Trail Grocery, Edward stood aside at the automatic doors, touching a hand first to Jessica's back, then to Bella's as he let them enter first. Inside, florescent lights cast a weak glow on cement floors and half-empty shelves. Jessica went straight for the candy display, darting around fellow shoppers and abandoned carts like sugar was her North Star.

"How many ounces do we have left this month?" she asked, holding a brightly colored packet in each hand and moving them up and down as if weighing their potential to satisfy her craving.

Bella flipped to the back of their book of ration coupons, to the section reserved for sweets. "Two."

"Damn. The government really loves to cock block my comfort eating, don't they? Okay, hmm. Eenie meenie miney..."

After much deliberation, Jessica finally selected a bag of sour gummy candy. Edward left them with a promise to meet outside; he had to pick up a few things of his own.

Before Bella could pay at the register, she had to present the coupons to be canceled, swipe her ration card, and flash her fake ID. The ration card, along with the store-specific registration, helped to ensure the coupons could only be used by Bella. People were always finding ways to cheat the system. If Bella didn't have the contents of Rosalie's kitchen at her disposal, she knew she'd become one of them.

"Thank you, Ms. Newton," the cashier said after glancing at the name on the receipt. As always, Bella had to stifle a smile. Jessica was to blame for that pseudonym.

"I want to still be Jessica," she had said when Emmett offered to procure fake IDs. "I won't be able to remember to answer to anything else. You'll sit there, shouting, 'Gwendolyn' or whatever, and I won't even look up. Dead giveaway. And you can be Annabel. That way I can still call you Bella. Last names, last names... Ooh, I'll be Smith. That's nice and generic. You can be a Newton."

"_Newton?_" Bella had said. "You're not serious."

"I so am. It's perfect. No one would ever guess you'd use Mike's name."

That had convinced her.

"Thank you, Mr. Masen," the cashier behind Bella said. Edward exited that line, catching her and Jessica on their way to the exit.

"I hope that's not your idea of comfort food," Jessica said, gesturing to the bag of apples he carried.

"No. Well, not yet, at least. I'm going to make them into a pie tomorrow."

If Bella was going to object to his presence during her stolen breath of silence every morning, she knew this would be the time. If she didn't want him invading her therapy, she'd have to speak up before it became a habit.

She said nothing.

"That's more like it," Jessica said. "God, I'm going to get so fat with you around, but I don't care. I love you already."

Edward chuckled. "Thank you, I think."

"Don't worry. It's a platonic love. I only lust after your food."

.

.

As promised, Edward was waiting in the kitchen the next morning when Bella tucked Jessica into Rosalie's bed. This time, two cups of coffee sat on the counter next to him. Bella accepted hers with a murmured word of thanks and started peeling carrots for her stew. While Edward seemed content to mix flour and butter together without speaking, Bella's nagging curiosity wouldn't allow it. She was the one who broke her treasured quiet.

"How do you know Adam, if you don't mind my asking?"

He hesitated as if he did mind, but answered her in a soft, level voice. "We met when I was drafted."

"Oh." Orange curls fell onto the white counter top with each pass of the peeler as Bella struggled to imagine Adam the drunk as Adam the soldier. "He's my favorite regular at the bar."

This earned her one of his smiles. "From the way it looked, it didn't seem there was much competition there."

Her laugh was louder than she intended: harsh and quick. "Not of late, no. If you actually want to start a fight with any of the others, my baseball bat and I will back you up."

"Yeah?" His elbow nudged hers. "I'd bet on us."

"Me too. Raiders of the world, beware."

Silence settled over them again, easier and friendlier than before. Bella moved on from carrots to potatoes. Her breaths deepened along with Jessica's until the tingle of relaxation inched up her spine.

"The world isn't so very small," Edward said. "I knew Adam lived out here; it's why I asked to come along. I was originally supposed to transfer to a branch in some little town in up in Washington."

"Forks."

"Yeah, that's it. Have you been there?"

"Once or twice." She smiled. "I was born there, actually."

"Really? Huh. Maybe it is a small world."

She groaned. "Oh, great. Now you've made me think of that song. It's going to be stuck in my head all day now."

A new sound joined the slick noise of the vegetable peeler and the swish of flour: Edward humming "It's a Small World" through a wide grin.

"Hey," Bella said, kicking his foot. "Humming head-sticky songs is outlawed in my kitchen."

"_Your_ kitchen, huh?"

"Yep. I claimed it a long time ago. Stuck a flag in it and everything. Don't think I won't kick you out just because you're a guest. Humming means no more couples therapy."

Sheets rustled on the bed. A girlish laugh came from within the mound of pillows and blankets, muffled by a hand.

Edward leaned in close enough for Bella to catch the fresh, simple scent of his soap. "I think we have an audience."

"Doesn't surprise me. Thanks for going along with the tour yesterday, by the way. I think Giggles over there had a lot of fun."

He scratched his cheek, leaving a powdery smear of white behind. "What about you? Did you have fun?"

"I did, actually. And hey, look at that. Your virtue is still intact."

"As intact as it ever was, at least." He smiled like he knew all of her secrets, then furrowed his brow. "You were pretty quiet during the tour."

"So were you."

"You knew her before she disappeared, huh?" he asked, nodding toward Jessica. When Bella's shoulders tensed, he placed a floury hand over one of hers. "Sorry. I don't mean to pry. Feel free to tell me to go back to the lab and mind my own business. You just... get that look sometimes."

"That look?"

"The one that says you have to soak up every second you can get, because you expect her to disappear at any moment."

"Oh. I guess I do, a little."

"Yeah. Understandable. How long was she gone?"

"Ten years. We were both fifteen when it happened."

Two years ago, Jake had burst into Bella's kitchen with a terrified, long-lost girl clinging to his back. Even before Jessica was sick, he was already saving her life.

"You grew up together?" Edward asked.

"Mm, yeah, pretty much. I moved away from Washington with my mom when I was a baby, but then I had to come back after the Surge. What about you? Where are you from?"

He cleared his throat and added a dash of flour to his bowl, like he was searching for a way to stall. "Chicago, originally," he said. "I don't remember much about it, though. Left when I was nine, also thanks to the Surge. After that, I lived all over the Midwest. This is the first time I've been so far west."

He'd mentioned having a foster mother before. Bella wondered what had become of his parents. If Charlie hadn't come for her―if he hadn't driven across multiple states during the riots to find her and bring her home―she might have ended up with a story like Edward's.

"If anyone can help her, it's Carlisle," he said suddenly. His voice warmed with the kind of reverence that small children used to speak of their parents during that precious sliver of time in which Mom and Dad were still their heroes. "I'm not saying there's nothing to worry about, because we both know better, but he's really the best there is."

Bella nodded. "I'm counting on it."

.

.

A piece of warm apple pie sat on Rosalie's desk, but she didn't so much as glance at it. Ignoring her computer for a change, she watched along with Bella as Edward and Mary flipped switches and checked gauges. Each time they completed a new task, another layer of silence blanketed the lab. A new machine sat off to the side: an import that had come along with the visitors from Chesterton. Shaped like a giant bullet with a door in the middle, it was covered in dents and scratches. It smelled as though it had been sitting in a vat of Jessica's ointment.

"Satan's Dildo, huh?" Edward said with a chuckle as the machine in question screeched to a stop. "Who came up with that one?"

"Emmett," Bella said.

"Why am I not surprised?" Mary asked. As Edward donned thick gloves and goggles and stepped into a protective yellow jumpsuit, she grabbed his elbow. "Hey, maybe I should do this part."

He scowled. "Why?"

"Well, I designed it. It's safer if I―"

Hoisting a coiled hose over his shoulder, he put one foot on the bottom rung of a ladder. "I'm perfectly capable."

"Seriously, it's not your job. We don't pay you enough to risk your life." When he gave no indication of relenting, she tossed her hands in the air. "Fine. It's your neck. Just don't expect me to cry at your funeral."

Edward muttered something about the lack of skill involved in attaching a simple hose, then started up the ladder. The scaffolding rose all the way to the bright lights overhead: layer upon layer of metal platforms creaked under Edward's weight as he made his way to the next ladder, and then the next. From Bella's perspective on the floor with her head tilted back, the lab looked like a bizarre cathedral―a cavernous space that waited for the climbing man to reach the top and paint the hand of God on its ceiling.

"Maybe we should go unload supplies," Rosalie said, shuffling over to stand in front of Bella and Jessica. Her arms stretched out as if to embrace or shield them. "There are dozens of boxes of ointment and pills to unpack."

Jasper waved a hand like he was shooing a fly. "You're fine where you are. Don't listen to Mary. He's done this before. It's relatively safe."

"Didn't you tell me he dropped out of high school?" Rosalie asked.

"Well, yes, he did, but don't be so judgmental. He also worked with Peter and Charlotte before he came to us. Charlotte made him her apprentice, after a fashion."

"He worked with Peter?" One of Rosalie's hands went to her throat. "Good Lord. It's a miracle he's still alive."

"Yep." Mary laughed. "Before that he was with Randall, and then he got stuck with me. Poor kid has all the rotten luck."

Mary's eyes weren't like the others'. Instead of an ever-shifting balance between amber and black, hers were dark brown. Bella shivered, wondering whose blood―whose death―those contacts concealed.

Jessica passed a jar of ointment between her hands, fingers skipping over the unmarked glass. "You know, I've never thought about it before," she said. "How do you get this stuff to everyone who needs it?"

"We have a couple of runners who deliver them to our safe houses," Rosalie said. "It's what Garrett used to do."

As Edward neared the top of his climb, the lab door swung open. Mary shouted for Carlisle to close and lock it behind himself. They couldn't have people going in and out during this procedure; it was too delicate.

"Why is there a piece of pie on your desk?" Carlisle asked, slinging an arm around Rosalie's shoulders. The two of them made a barrier of sorts: a wall between the humans and the new machine. Bella could just barely see the window in the door over the top of Rosalie's head.

"It's from Edward," Jessica said. "He's trying to bribe her."

"Bribe me?" Rosalie asked. "Why? What does he want?"

"To drive your car. He thinks delicious, delicious desserts might be the way to your keys."

"Ha. He can keep dreaming."

"Just as long as he keeps baking, I don't care what he does," Jessica said.

Carlisle chuckled. "Hmm. He reminds me of someone."

Rosalie's answering smile was fast―just a twitch―but Bella caught it.

"Oh yeah? Who?" Jessica asked. "Because I'm pretty sure I need to make them my new best friend."

"A former neighbor of mine―a woman who never heard the word no. Not because people didn't say it to her; she simply refused to acknowledge it." Carlisle spoke like he was addressing a classroom, like he couldn't stand to keep information to himself. In Carlisle's world, knowledge demanded to be shared. "She brought me cakes, pies, all sorts of things. I was living on my own at the time, so there was no way I could have eaten everything. It was almost a bakery's worth, really. Even so, she kept showing up. Every Sunday after church with her family, like clockwork, she knocked on my door, presented me with another dessert, and then sat and talked to me for a couple of hours."

"You were a recluse," Rosalie said, drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she paused to make a note. "Maybe she felt sorry for you."

"I don't think my dear neighbor spent a day in her life feeling sorry for anyone."

Rosalie's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Was she that heartless?"

"Oh, on the contrary. She only likes to pretend she is."

Bella tried to imagine a human Rosalie―a pre-Surge Rosalie―carrying pretty boxes of dainty cookies to the vampire next door. She knew from Jake's stories that the treaty was made between his great-grandfather and a coven made up of Carlisle, Rosalie, and Emmett. Maybe Carlisle had been the one to change her. What had inspired him to do it? Their friendship?

Mary snorted. "Don't you just love it when people tell their inside jokes in front of you?"

"It's delightful," Jessica said. "Hey, Rose. Rosie. Have you been holding out on me? You were the neighbor in this story, right?"

"I was."

"Man, and you've never baked for us? I thought we were _friends._"

Everything about Rosalie seemed to soften with her laugh. Bella almost suspected that if she were to touch Rosalie's hand in that moment, their skin would be the same temperature.

"We are, crazy girl," Rosalie said. "I haven't been depriving you of my culinary skills. I just delivered the cakes; I never made them."

A shout came from above: Edward, announcing the hose was attached. As he made his descent, Mary used a mortar and pestle to crush something green and noxious together with a variety of herbs and seeds. The fumes made Bella cough. Her eyes watered, tears spilling from the corners and streaking down her cheeks. The hose uncoiled behind Edward: a skinny black snake stretching down from the ceiling. Rosalie shoved Bella and Jessica into protective gear―double layers for both of them.

"All right," Mary said, prodding her mixture with the end of the pestle. "That should do it. Now, let's hope Edward's stubborn ass doesn't make us all die horribly."

"You're a ray of sunshine, Mar," Edward said, jumping down the last few rungs and landing with an echoing thud. "I didn't mess it up."

"Mm. I guess we'll find out."

After pouring the contents of her mortar into a jar and mixing it with what looked like beeswax, Mary slotted the concoction into the new machine and slammed the door. Bella held her breath as Edward fastened the other end of the hose to the top and flipped a few switches. As the huge pole in the middle of the room began churning again, orange light screamed through the thick window of the chamber. The needles of the pressure gauges inched higher and higher. The air crackled as if they were creating their own storm right there in the lab.

This was why experimentation was so highly regulated. One wrong move, and they _could _cause a storm. One slip, and they could send a hurricane of energy tearing through the county. In their quest to understand this force―in their hunger to put an end to it―they could set it free to snatch hundreds of victims from the past.

In the privacy of her mind―the same mind that ridiculed the superstitions of the Raiders―Bella still referred to that orange light as magic. The proper name was temporal energy, but that seemed too clinical, too clean to describe the wild power that lurked beneath the surface of the earth. Its unpredictable eruptions created the illusion of cracks in the sky as it reached back through the years. It had the ability to destroy lives, to slaughter the innocent. She'd only been eight years old when the first temporal event―the Surge―whipped through the planet, but even now it still seemed like a malevolent, dark sort of magic.

Then again, maybe it was sensible that she saw it that way. One of her best friends was a time traveler, another could change into a wolf, and yet another was an immortal being who drank blood and sparkled in the sunlight. Given everything she already knew, a little magic hardly seemed unlikely.

"Okay," Mary whispered, like she was interrupting a church service. "Get ready."

Mary didn't watch any of the spinning dials. Her gaze stayed fastened to the glowing window of the chamber, where the jar rattled under the deluge of energy. Each of her breaths was synchronized with the pulse of the light. Finally, she nodded. Edward flipped a switch. Everything dimmed.

The jar that Mary pulled from the machine contained the same yellow, gooey ointment that Bella saw every day, with one small difference. It _glowed_. Within a few weeks, that light would fade, rendering it still effective, but not as powerful. The same energy that threatened to kill Jessica was also what activated the ointment. The thing that threatened to tear her apart simultaneously tried to put her back together.

"Doesn't get much fresher than that," Mary said, handing the jar to Jessica. "Wanna do another?"

.

.

Clouds concealed the sun just in time to allow Garrett to drive Bella and Jessica back to their trailer. Emmett waved at them from his spot next to his beehives. He was swathed in unnecessary protective gear, gathering honey to make his mead. Seeing him surrounded by a smoke-sleepy, buzzing fog always made Bella think of the dusty books she used to read in the wreckage of the Forks Memorial Library―of the stories in which bees were sacred insects that could pass into the underworld.

As soon as they were buckled into the car and rumbling down the long driveway, Jessica turned in her seat and smirked at Bella.

"You know," she said. "I think today was the first time I've ever seen you flirt."

"I guess you missed my prime flirting years." Bella sighed. "It's been a while."

"Pft, you'll remember how it goes. It's like riding a bike."

"By bike, do you mean man?"

"I swear, it's like you can read my mind sometimes."

Garrett said nothing about their exchange; only his quiet laughter revealed he was paying attention at all. As they came to a stop in front of the trailer and a breeze stole through the open car windows, he drew in a sharp breath.

"Oh," he said. Giving himself a little shake, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "All right. Um. See you tomorrow."

For her second night off from the bar, Bella intended to do as little as possible. Housework could wait. All she wanted was to sit on her couch, read a book, and then fall asleep at a time usually reserved for senior citizens and four-year-olds.

Life had other plans. Two visitors had sneaked into the trailer during their absence, aided by Jake's key. Jake dwarfed the already tiny room, grinning like he always did. A smile Bella hadn't seen in four years joined in with his, lighting up a face she had begun to think was lost to them forever.

Jessica was the first to move―the first to breathe again.

"Seth? Oh, my God."

His arms were ready, held wide open to welcome her. Jessica squealed loud enough to alert the neighbors as she launched herself at him. Bella checked the door and the windows. She'd flipped the deadbolt, and the curtains were already drawn, closing them in with the wolves. The dim lamplight made the trailer seem even dingier than usual. If it had been anyone other than Jake and Seth, Bella would have been embarrassed by the bits of cereal on the kitchen floor and the mountain of socks in the corner by the couch. The sink held that morning's breakfast dishes, dried egg yolk still painted across the cheerful blue and white floral pattern.

"Surprise," Jake said. "Look who I found."

When Bella's turn came and her arms closed around Seth, he lifted her up and swung her around. She squeezed him as tightly as she could, like she thought she could be his anchor to the present, like she thought her arms could keep him safe.

For a moment, just after he set her down, he looked like his sister: hollow smile, eyes that focused anywhere but Bella. He knew. Of course he knew. Then, with a clasp of her hand, his gaze met hers as if nothing had changed, like they were still just Seth and Bella. Her vision wavered into an Impressionist painting, blurred by tears that she blinked away.

"I missed you, kiddo," she said.

"Missed you too. Well, as much as I could, since to me it feels like I just saw you last week."

"What I want to know is when the hell did you grow up?" Jessica asked, hands on her hips. "Aren't you supposed to be, like, nine?"

Seth swiped a hand over her curls, ruffling them in spite of her squeak of protest. "Nineteen, actually. You'd know that if you hadn't stayed away so long."

"You're one to talk," Bella said. "When did you get back?"

"Two days ago. Landed on First Beach during a storm and got stuck as a wolf. Jake met me halfway, and we ran here."

"Huh," Bella said. "I guess Rose is wrong about there not being any recent time travelers."

"That's one of their leeches," Jake said when Seth's eyebrows drew together. "The blond one who looks like she has a stick up her ass. You saw her in my head."

"Oh, yeah. Kinda hot for a vampire, even with the stick."

Jessica scoffed. "If Rose is only kinda hot, I hate to think what that makes me."

"You're _way_ hot, obviously." Seth's arm circled her waist as he spoke. "And you have a pulse, so that's a bonus."

"Good to know you've grown into a man with such high standards." Spinning in his half-embrace, Jessica bounced on the balls of her feet. "Hey, I have a deck of cards."

"Do you? If memory serves, you owe me a Crazy Eights grudge match."

"Think you're still up to it?"

He beamed. "Lead the way."

With that, they disappeared down the narrow hall. As Jessica's bedroom door slammed behind them, a burst of purple glitter rained from the construction paper letters that spelled out her name. Bella stared after the pair, a half-formed objection caught in her throat. What could she say? It wasn't as though Garrett and Jessica had made any sort of commitment. Even if they were more than friends who flirted, what Jessica did behind closed doors with anyone was none of Bella's business.

"If you hear them hooking up in there, I don't want to know about it, okay?" she said. "Let me live in blissful ignorance."

"No way. If I'm forced to see the highlights, you have to suffer right along with me. Solidarity, sister."

"You want solidarity? Fine. Next time I get my period, I'm going to tell you all about my cramps and bloating."

Jake's face twisted into the same expression he'd gotten years ago when he caught her fooling around with one of his pack-mates. "Maybe I was a bit hasty. Anyway, settle down. They really are just playing cards. Boring. They aren't even stripping, from what I can tell."

"Good to know, I guess." Since the guys were there, Bella turned toward her mess of a kitchen. So much for relaxation. "Hey, are you hungry, or did I manage to chase your appetite away with that subject? I could make you something."

"Nah, I just ate. Thanks, though."

He was always hungry, but Bella let the fib curl up between them like it belonged there. Jake turned her couch into his own personal armchair as he stretched his arms along the back and propped his feet on the coffee table.

"I've been thinking," he said. "We should go to Yellowstone."

Bella shifted plates aside to plug the sink as she spoke, frowning at him over her shoulder. "Yellowstone? What, you planning a vacation?"

"No, I mean permanently. Hardly anyone visits the park anymore. We can get lost up there. We'll hunt for you and Jess, and you'll have my blood on tap whenever she needs it. We'll live in the woods."

"Yeah, because that worked out _so_ well for us last time."

"That was different. We were too close to home."

A squeeze of a mostly empty plastic bottle sent lemon-scented soap squirting over the dishes in a yellow zigzag. "If Tanya and Irina hadn't helped us get out of Washington―"

"If Tanya and Irina hadn't been _in_ Washington, we wouldn't have needed to leave in the first place. Having them nearby is why I started phasing. If they had just stayed in Alaska or where-the-fuck-ever, E―"

She turned the water on as hot as it would go, using the rushing sound along with her own voice to smother his words―to make the things she didn't want to hear sink back down his throat. "What about Jess? She couldn't have stayed in Forks, no matter what. It's not like it's a huge town. Someone would've recognized her. And how, exactly, am I supposed to live with the rest of the wolves in this wilderness scenario of yours, huh? You and Seth, fine, but Leah and Quil can't even stand to look at me, and Paul... Paul would probably kill me if he got the chance."

Jake stood up, the top of his head almost brushing the low ceiling. Inside Bella's home, he always looked like he'd been sampling food from _Alice in Wonderland_, like his arms and legs would bust through the windows as he kept growing and growing.

"He wouldn't," he said. "Not ever. It's not like that."

"It's not? Then why have I seen them a grand total of three times in the past two years?"

His arm settled over her shoulders. Hugs from Jake―even the one-armed variety―always felt as if he surrounded her completely: a boy-shaped blanket to ward off any kind of chill.

The others would see this. As soon as he phased, they would watch her through his eyes and hear her voice crack around their names.

"It's not like that," he whispered. "They don't... they don't blame you, Bells. They know you had―"

Slicing an arm through the air, she jerked away from him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Yeah." Jake sighed. "I know _I_ always bring up shit I don't want to talk about."

And they would see this: the shallow breaths, the quivering mouth, the prelude to tears that never came. Plunging her hands into the soapy water, Bella attacked the dishes with the scourer like they were at fault. The heat of it turned her skin pink. Jake fiddled with the magnets on the green fridge, sliding around the thick plastic letters to spell vulgar words.

"You remember what Tanya said to me, don't you?" he asked after a few minutes. "When I told her you didn't know about the bloodsuckers?"

"How could I forget?"

"Then what the hell is holding you back? We have to get out of here. If their rulers or whatever they are find out that you know, they'll fucking kill you. And did you forget that I'm their natural enemy? What would they do if they found out about me? We have to get away from them while we still can."

"So leave. Go, if that's what you have to do to protect yourself and the others. Give me as much blood as you can and run away. I'm staying."

Jake's palms slapped against the ceiling: an exclamation mark at the end of his groan. "I can't just leave you here. I promised Charlie."

"And Jessica can't leave at all. The medicine, the―she can't live in the wilderness, and you know it. She needs clean water. She needs heat and a roof over her head and... them. She needs their help."

"Yeah? For how much longer?"

The heat of the water was nothing―snow and ice compared to the fire that raced up Bella's neck and flooded into her face.

"Get out," she said.

"Bells, I didn't―"

"Get _out_."

He didn't listen. He stood there, unmoving and silent while she rinsed bowls and glasses. If not for the heat pouring off of him, warming her back, she might have been able to believe he was gone.

"Do you want to take some of my blood?" he asked as the sink drained.

"Yes."

She went through the motions like a factory worker, filling tube after tube as her mind wandered far away from her repetitive actions. Jake broke through her daze by kissing her forehead. He had always done that―had always been her brother in every way that mattered―but for the first time, she itched to shrink away.

"I don't want her to die," he said. "You know I don't."

She yanked the needle from his arm, hoping it hurt. "Are you going to leave?"

"Not yet."

Bella grabbed a cotton ball and wiped the smear of red from his arm. The skin had already healed―not even a dot left behind. He always bounced back so fast.

She nodded. "Good."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ In case anyone is interested: Umatilla is pronounced yew-muh-till-uh. And Pendleton really did have a lot of bordellos during the days of the Oregon Trail. Eighteen of them for a population of 3,000. The Bowman Hotel and the Hendricks Building are real places, but the names I used for the grocery stores are fake._

_I've only driven through Pendleton, never really visited, and it's always a bit tricky writing about places you don't know well. Apologies for any glaring mistakes. Well, aside from the name of a certain hill. That was an intentional change._


	5. Up the Ladder and Down the Wall

_**A/N: **__2Shaes and shouvley were my betas for this chapter, so thanks to both of them. And thanks to you for reading. :)_

_I'm going to be taking a trip that'll leave me without computer access for a while, so I'm not entirely sure when the next chapter will be posted. I'll try to get it up early, before I leave, but if that doesn't happen, I'm afraid the next update won't be until sometime after October 12__th__._

* * *

**Up the Ladder and Down the Wall**

The trees used to make her feel safe. When she was eight years old, they had seemed like friendly giants: soldiers in suits of moss who watched over her from the edge of Charlie's property. She didn't know when they turned on her―when the eyes she found in the patterns of their bark became menacing instead of comforting.

Watched by dozens of those traitors, Bella struggled to move her legs. Rain pounded down, cooling the gun in her hand and trickling into her eyes. The forest floor held her feet in place. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. The Raiders were going to find her. If she didn't run, rough hands and rougher souls would drag her to the gallows.

They would have their hanging.

"Bella?" A branch reached out, its leafy fingers closing over her arm. "Hey, wake up."

She gasped. Waterlogged trees dissolved into the pale yellow walls of her bedroom, lit by the soft half-light of dawn. Jessica stood over her, all messy curls and rumpled pajamas. Without a word, Bella scooted over until her back was pressed against the cool wall. The blankets lifted, chilling her sweat-dampened skin as the sheet breezed back down with Jessica beneath it. The additional weight on the bed made Bella roll into the dip in the middle. It was impossible for her and Jessica to stick to the edges when they lay down together in her bed; they always ended up in that crater in the center of the mattress, sagging against each other.

"Was I talking in my sleep?" Bella asked.

"More like whimpering and screaming. I would've woken you sooner, but I thought it was the good kind of whimpering at first. I was going to let you enjoy it."

"I should be so lucky."

Jessica's fingers combed through Bella's hair: a whisper condensed into a touch. The tickle of it reminded Bella of sitting in a chalk-scented classroom and watching film strips about the ocean while Angela and Jessica played with her hair.

"Is it selfish of me to kind of enjoy this?" Jessica asked.

"What? Ending up in bed with me?"

"Oh, baby. You know I'd switch teams for you." Jessica's giggle was like the light sneaking around the edges of the curtains. "No, just... I don't know. I get to take care of you for a change. Makes me feel useful."

"It's not selfish. But hey, if you really want to feel useful, you could start picking up your dirty socks."

"Let's not get crazy."

As the sunlight grew stronger, Jessica kept up the soothing brush of her fingers over Bella's forehead and down the length of her hair. Just as Bella was about to doze off, Jessica spoke again.

"Wanna talk about it?"

A bird chirped outside the window, chattering away like its words came as easy as air.

"Not really," Bella said. "Same old, same old."

"Yeah, I figured."

For a moment, Jessica's hand stopped. Bella nudged it to get it going again, earning her a breathy laugh from her friend.

"Needy, aren't you?" Jessica said. She took a few breaths, each exhale coming out in a sigh, as if she hovered on the edge of speech. Finally, she added, "What did Jake say to you last night?"

"Nothing important."

Another laugh, this one quick and sharp. "Yeah, right. Seth wouldn't tell me, either. He just said that Jake was being an asshole. Which basically means it was about me, right?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes." Jessica's hand went down the nape of Bella's neck and traced part of her spine before resting between her shoulder blades. "What are you going to do when I'm gone?"

"Jess, I don't want―"

"I know you don't, but you have to. I'm not... My odds aren't good, okay?" She threw the words at Bella as if she was angry―angry at Bella, angry at the world. "And if Jake said that you shouldn't pin all of your hopes on saving someone who is going to die, maybe he had a point. Yeah, it sucks. I hate it and I want more time and it's not fair, but I can't... Jesus. Edward was right. You do get that wounded puppy look sometimes, and it kills me. I can't be the reason you turn back into a zombie."

Rolling onto her back, Bella swallowed hard. She barely remembered the days leading up to the onset of Jessica's illness, as if she'd temporarily left her own body when they left Forks. It was only when a teary Jessica showed her a crimson mark on an expanse of soft white skin that Bella had snapped out of her fog.

She could think about it now, sometimes―could think about Embry, even if she didn't want to discuss the past with Jake. In her mind, his smile was just his smile again. There was no blood, no desperate nod telling her he understood. There was only him: her friend. As long as she didn't let herself think about the end―as long as she let her mind rewind far enough and stopped before that day―she could remember him instead of pretending that segment of her life had never happened.

Maybe it was denial. Maybe it was what making peace felt like.

"I suck at this whole comforting thing, don't I?" Jessica asked.

"Well, that wasn't exactly lullabies and snuggles, but no, you don't. You're just honest."

"Do you want lullabies and snuggles?"

Bella snorted. "I thought you were trying to comfort me, not give me more nightmares. I've heard your singing."

"Ouch. Just for that, the next time you have a nightmare, I'm going to lullaby the shit out of you."

Laughing, Bella nudged Jessica's shin with her toe. She joined their hands together, resting them on the pillow between their heads. "I won't turn back into a zombie. It'll be different. Promise."

"Good."

"But if you die, I _am_ going to cry, and you can't stop me. Don't even try to get me to say I won't."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Jessica paused, the wrinkling of the skin between her eyebrows barely visible in the dim room. "Hey, do you think zombies really exist?"

"Ugh, I hope not. That'd be all we need on top of everything else: a bunch of half-rotted corpses trying to eat our brains."

"Seriously. I wonder about that stuff sometimes, though. Supernatural things, I mean."

"Me too. It's kind of hard not to think about it."

"Yeah. Hmm." One of Jessica's legs extended toward the ceiling, turning the blankets into a tent in which they could hide from the coming day. "If ghosts exist, I'm going to haunt you, okay?"

"No, _not _okay. I don't want to be in the shower and have you scare me by popping your head through the wall and grinning or something."

"Aww, c'mon! It'd be fun."

"Fun for _you_."

"And isn't that what matters? Woman, you should be happy I love you enough to come back and scare the crap out of you. You should get all weepy and say something about me always being with you. And hey, when you kick the bucket, we can haunt the vampires together and see if we can scare them."

"We'd better make sure to die in super villain outfits, then. If we're going to haunt them, we should do it in style."

"Ooh, yes. Why didn't I think of that? If we're ghosts, it won't matter if being evil doesn't pay well." The leg fell back down. Propping herself up on one elbow, Jessica squinted at the clock on Bella's nightstand. "We should probably try to get some more sleep."

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"Night. Want a lullaby?"

"Don't make me kick you out of my bed."

.

.

Instead of the usual two cups of coffee, three mugs sat in a row on the counter. Mary stood in front of the extra one, stirring in sugar as if she thought it'd make the dark brown liquid taste like blood.

"Thought I'd try my hand at cooking," she said once Bella had tucked Jessica in. "See what all the fuss is about."

Bella's only experience with a vampire's cooking was Emmett's one attempt at making her lunch. Because he knew she liked both bacon and raspberry jam, he'd decided to put them together in a sandwich. She hadn't had the heart to tell him how disgusting it was.

"Have you ever cooked before?" Bella asked.

Mary looked at the stove as if it was something to hunt. "Nah, but how hard can it be?"

Edward shared a smile with Bella as he moved to the sink to rinse a basket full of strawberries that looked fresh from the garden. Leaning across the counter, he plucked up a short knife. With her heart in her throat, Bella grabbed his wrist.

"Why don't we let Mary do the chopping?" she asked. "It's pretty hard to mess that up. If she burned any of my ingredients, I'd be forced to lodge a rolling pin in her temple."

Bella always used Rosalie's clunky old food processor to chop ingredients. She'd left several of the reasons why downstairs in the lab. Another reason stared at her through muddy brown contacts, eyebrows raised. Mary took the knife without question, though, and Bella felt like she could breathe again.

"Bella," Mary said, slow and soft. "That's a pretty name."

"Thanks."

"Is it short for anything?"

"Annabel." Eager to steer the subject away from lies, Bella peeked at Edward's progress. Since she took his strawberries away, he'd moved on to making a pastry crust. "What are you bribing Rose with today?"

"Oh, I've given up on trying to bribe her with food."

Mary flicked the blade of the knife and sent a circle of strawberry flying into her bowl. "Probably for the best. Rose is never that thrilled about food. She's abnormal." Pausing for a beat, she waited for Bella to take a sip of coffee. "You could always try to bribe her with sex."

Bella refused to sputter and spit her drink everywhere. She managed to force it down, touching her fingers to her lips.

Edward gave a funny little laugh that sounded more like a scoff. "I'm not a prostitute. Anyway, isn't she with Emmett?"

"Not officially," Bella said. "May as well be, though."

As they worked together, Mary peppered the conversation with questions about things like preheating the oven and letting the dough rest. Her constant, inquiring looks reminded Bella of a different pair of brown eyes―a pair that resembled her own. During her final Thanksgivings at Charlie's, he'd always surfaced from his football marathon to ask Bella what she was doing. Until she learned to cook, Thanksgiving dinner had consisted of cold turkey sandwiches with stuffing and cranberry sauce: leftovers before they were left over. After she took over the kitchen, he sat at the table, distracting her with questions about basting the turkey so she would pretend not to notice when he swiped a finger through a bowl full of pie filling.

Standing there with two relative strangers, Bella missed her far-away father and his Thanksgivings more than she had in years. The old wound throbbed as if trying to reopen. Learning to look back on her memories of Charlie with fondness and laughter instead of tears had been easier than trying to do the same with Embry.

It made sense, she supposed. She hadn't been there when Charlie died.

Somehow, Edward's ingredients transformed into strawberry tartlets while Bella was busy answering Mary and reminiscing. Sliding one onto a small plate, he presented it to her.

Bella looked askance at the dessert. "Are you trying to bribe _me_ now?"

"No bribe. I'm not trying to get anything out of you. It's just a gift."

He smiled. Unsure of whether to accept it, Bella tapped her bitten-to-the-quick fingernails against the counter. As far as she could tell, he was being truthful when he claimed he didn't want anything in return. Because he seemed genuine, she took the plate.

And she smiled back.

.

.

Back in the lab, Bella jotted down readings and performed a few quick calculations. The energy that day was high, rising like a swollen river. If it kept going, they would see a storm. As if to confirm her suspicions, a few bursts of orange danced across the screen that displayed the weather outside. The vampires huddled around Rosalie's computer, carrying on a hushed conversation, while Jessica looked as if she might doze off at her table.

Nearby, Edward wiped a forearm across his sweaty forehead and pulled his t-shirt away from his body. Before he could go back to tinkering with the Canary―the instrument that kept track of the air in the lab―Rosalie touched his arm.

"What are you doing?" she asked, tapping one foot.

He held up a screwdriver, as if it would explain for him. "Uh, my job?"

"I just calibrated that thing yesterday."

"Well, you must have made a mistake somewhere, because―"

"I did no such thing."

"Can't you hear that grinding noise?"

Every word out of his mouth made Rosalie's eyes darken. Bella almost expected to see a vein start throbbing in her temple. Rosalie's omnipresent ponytail whipped back and forth as she shook her head. She looked like a Fury―like she'd emerged from drops of blood cast into the sea instead of drops of venom cast into her veins.

"That's how it's _supposed_ to sound," Rosalie said.

"Yeah, right before it breaks down." Edward went back to his work. "Listen, I know what I'm doing."

"Well, so do I, and I've been doing it a lot longer than you, kid."

"Seriously?" He didn't bother to turn around―didn't even look over his shoulder at her as he spoke. "_You're_ calling _me_ kid? You look about eighteen. How long could you have possibly been doing this?"

Ducking away from the storm building between them, Bella sat next to Jessica.

"I forgot to tell you," she said, keeping her voice low, as if she thought she had a chance of the vampires not overhearing. "Jake wants to move to Yellowstone."

Jessica's gust of laughter ruffled the papers that were spread out on her table. Arching her back like a cat waking up, she rubbed her drooping eyes. "Yellowstone, really? There's a great idea. Leave the Raiders behind, get mauled by a bear. He's a damn genius."

Emmett's lips twitched up into a secret sort of smile.

"That's what I told him," Bella said, "but he's pretty set on it. He wants to disappear in the wilderness."

"He can suck it. I'm not disappearing anywhere without a toilet."

"Amen."

Out of the corner of her eye, Bella caught Rosalie watching over Edward's shoulder as he worked, offering her opinion as often as she drew breath.

That poor boy was never going to get to drive that car.

Eventually, Edward escaped Rosalie's constant stream of "advice." The machine sounded exactly the same to Bella, but she didn't mention it.

"I have a new plan to win her over," he said, standing between Bella and Jessica. He placed himself closer to the former―close enough to whisper.

"Yeah?" Bella said. "How? Driving her crazy?"

"No, that was unintentional. Just a minor setback. I'll get there."

"Mhm. I'm sure."

"I can't tell you, in case anyone overhears, but trust me. If you knew, you'd bet on me."

Jessica poked one of his tattooed arms with the eraser of her pencil. "Can anyone get in on this? I want to put ten bucks on Rose."

"Ten bucks on Rosalie, and no more cupcakes," Edward said. "Got it."

"Hey, now―"

Whatever Jessica had been preparing to say was preempted by a coughing fit. Her face turned a frightening purplish-red as she hacked into a tissue and fought for breath. Edward reached out as if to catch her, but then Carlisle was there, rubbing gentle circles on her back and telling her everything would be okay. The way Carlisle stood almost reminded Bella of a runner waiting for the bang of the starting pistol. Rosalie took up a similar position, like she was acting as Jessica's bodyguard in the room full of vampires. Maybe she was.

Bella's heart restarted when the tissue came away without any streaks of red and Jessica stopped wheezing. As the disease progressed, some sufferers of Margaret Brown Syndrome added coughing up blood to their symptoms, staining handkerchiefs like they'd developed consumption. If that happened, Jessica would have to start staying home.

"Deep breaths," Carlisle said.

As Carlisle examined Jessica, something touched Bella's shoulder―something warm and heavy and rough: Edward's hand. It was there for the space of one of Jessica's slow breaths, and then it was gone again.

"Hey," Edward said. "I'm just kidding about the cupcakes."

Jessica laugh-coughed. "You'd better be."

.

.

The bar was quiet. Only the most dedicated drunks filled the chairs and slurred their orders at Bella. As she prepared to go on her break, Adam caught her gaze with a grin.

"I hear there's a family reunion going on out your way," he said with a nod at the table where Jasper and Carlisle sat with Emmett.

Bella shrugged. "Yeah. They're Rose's cousins from somewhere down in California. All I know is it's a hell of a lot more people to clean up after."

The cover story was one of the more believable lies Bella had ever had to tell. With their blond hair and pale skin, Jasper, Carlisle, and Mary could easily pass as Rosalie's blood relatives. Edward stuck out among them like―well, like a human among vampires. Then again, every family had the occasional anomaly.

"Hey, come clean my house, then," Adam said. "There's only little old me to worry about."

Laughing, she swatted his arm. "Maybe so, but you're worth about sixteen of anyone else."

Outside, the alley greeted her with the sparkle of broken glass and the stench of rotting food. She chose a perch on a wooden crate that was mercifully upwind of the dumpster. If she tried very hard, she could pretend she only smelled the incense from a nearby market stall. Letting her head rest against the bricks, she sighed. Not two minutes later, the door of the bar creaked open. Jasper stepped into the alley.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Did you want to be alone?"

"No, no. It's okay. Pull up a crate."

Instead of accepting her invitation, he stood like a soldier at ease. When a gust of wind whipped through her hair, his breaths grew shallow―so shallow, she wasn't sure he was breathing at all until he opened his mouth like he was tasting the air and turned to her with a sly grin.

"How long is your break?" he asked.

Glancing at her watch, she frowned. "I have about ten more minutes."

"Would you like to take a walk?"

"With you? Um, I don't know."

"Just a quick one. Around the block, maybe. We'll be back before you know it."

Something foreign tingled over her scalp and trickled down her spine. Suddenly, she felt light and airy. A laugh sneaked through her lips, though she couldn't say what was so funny. Everything was right in the world. The alley was charming. Broken glass may as well have been gemstones, given the way it glimmered. The shadows lurking in corners were cozy. A walk sounded like the best idea ever. She couldn't sit still―couldn't contain the euphoria that pulsed through her like an orgasm.

Why wasn't it wise or safe or whatever to take a walk in the middle of the night with a strange vampire? She couldn't remember, not with all of that lovely darkness begging to be explored. Maybe Jake would be upset, but she could make him understand, couldn't she? If he saw everything through new eyes, the way she did, he would walk with them and they would be friends. He probably wouldn't even care that Jasper was a vampire.

Jasper extended a hand―such a nice hand. It was pretty, like the rest of him, like everything in the world. Before Bella could take it and tether her floating body to the earth, the hinges of the door let out another groan.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Oh, it was Emmett. A different Emmett, though. Bella's Emmett never spoke in that voice―so hard and rough. It was like listening to a freight train try to form words. The pretty hand vanished as a body slammed against the wall of the bar. Emmett pushed a thick arm against Jasper's throat until red dust scattered onto the ground: crumbled bits of the bricks at Jasper's back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Emmett asked again, this time in a whisper.

Jasper's eyes went wide, as if he was just waking up. With that, Bella's good mood popped like a soap bubble.

What had he done to her? More importantly, if Emmett hadn't shown up, what _would _he have done to her? Jasper's gaze flitted to Bella as anger seeped in and set her trembling. No. _No_. How dare he? She wasn't going to end up as some vampire's midnight snack.

Maybe Emmett would let her borrow his hand so she could punch said vampire without hurting herself.

"It wasn't planned," Jasper said, "if that counts for anything."

Emmett growled. "It really doesn't."

Jasper's mouth moved in the same way Garrett's had on the day the visitors showed up. All Bella heard was a low whoosh that went up at the end like a question, but it made Emmett press harder.

"Yeah, and Rose does too, and you know it," Emmett said.

"I do. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Instead of shoving him back inside, like Bella expected, Emmett escorted Jasper to the end of the alley. Just before Jasper ran into the street, Bella thought she heard Emmett say something about Raiders.

"Look," Emmett said as he walked back to her side, fiddling with the strap of his eye patch, "you should probably stay away from him as much as you can. He's kind of dangerous, and―shit. That just makes him sound more appealing, doesn't it? I know I probably seem paranoid and over-protective, but I don't want to see you get hurt."

Bella laughed. "Don't worry; I'm not interested in him. I really don't think he's interested in me, either."

Not in more than her blood, at any rate.

"Yeah, about that. I think you should know; he's married. His wife, Alice, vanished a few years back. We think she's lost somewhere in time. It's been really hard on him, and I know that even though he might be tempted now and then, he really doesn't want to do anything he might regret when he finds her."

"Ah. Yeah. Got it."

And then, for the first time ever, Emmett kissed the top of her head. He held his breath like always in the hug that followed, but he squeezed her tighter than usual―so tight, she almost had to hold her breath, too.

"Be careful, okay?" he said as he released her.

Bella smiled. "Always am."

.

.

Smooth sheets stretched across Rosalie's bed. Without the familiar head of curls peeking out from beneath the blankets, it seemed all wrong―too empty and quiet, like walking through a school late at night, after all of the teachers and students had left.

"No Jessica today?" Edward asked.

"She wasn't feeling up to coming in. Had to leave her at home."

Not even Jake's blood had given her the strength to do more than shuffle to the kitchen for breakfast. No blood had appeared during her coughing fits, but Bella wasn't going to risk it, no matter how Jessica whined at being forced to stay in the trailer all day.

"I'm sorry."

They didn't speak much as they cooked―just a "Could you hand me that?" here and a "Do you mind if I use this?" there. Since the supply of flour and sugar was running low, Edward baked a single cupcake instead of a whole batch. After decorating it as well as he could with the smear of frosting he was able to make, he handed the little cake to Bella.

"Another gift?" she said.

"Yes, but not for you. It's for Jessica."

A smile took over Bella's face, like it controlled her instead of the other way around. "She really is going to love you if you keep it up. Thanks."

"Any time."

.

.

"You can't walk in this," Rosalie said, looking at the weather screen. Sheets of rain poured down, veiling the world in misty gray.

"Well," Bella said, "Garrett's gone for the day, so―"

"I'll take you. Just a minute. Let me finish this one last thing."

It took thirty minutes before Bella found herself in the passenger seat of Rosalie's car, holding the cupcake from Edward and a Tupperware container full of lunch that warmed her legs through her maid's uniform. Rosalie sang along with an old song on the radio as she drove, her high, clear voice harmonizing with Mama Cass's and asking the listener to dream of her. The few cars that passed them seemed soaked to their interiors, like the torrential rain could pound through metal and glass.

At the trailer, they discovered a familiar, mud-streaked car parked in front of Bella's truck. Rosalie tapped her fingers against her steering wheel.

"Looks like he isn't as far away as we thought," Bella said.

"So it would seem."

Together, they went inside. The trailer was a mess again, but Rosalie didn't give any indication that she noticed. She marched down the hall and opened Jessica's door after only the briefest of knocks.

Jessica was propped up in bed, her dark, wet hair fanned across her pillows. The cheap, vaguely floral scent of her shampoo hung in the air. Garrett sat next to her, laughing at something she'd said. He must have known they were coming. He'd probably heard their conversation when they were still in Rosalie's car, but he hadn't bothered to move.

Rosalie arched an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be on your way to Walla Walla?"

Standing up as if time ran slower in his world, Garrett passed his fingers through his hair. It was wet, too.

"I was just about to head out," he said.

"Mhm. Can I see you in the kitchen for a minute?"

After Garrett followed Rosalie to the front of the trailer, Jessica let out a tiny squeal. She accepted the lunch and the cupcake from Bella, but put them on her nightstand to be eaten later. Bella hid a smile. Things with Garrett had to be getting serious if he was more important than a cupcake in Jessica's eyes.

"He's been here for an hour," Jessica whispered.

"I take it you had fun, then?"

"I'll tell you later."

As Bella checked Jessica's lesions, she wondered if the gnawing worry in her belly was even a fraction of how it felt to raise a child. She couldn't imagine watching her heart live in someone else's chest―someone tiny and vulnerable who barely stood a chance in this world. Someone who would need her in ways not even Jessica did―would need her to shape him or her into a good person. Some of the best parents she knew had ended up with children who grew into Raiders.

Terrifying. She never wanted that. Never. She'd been crazy to even consider having a baby.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?" she said. "And don't forget to eat."

"Like I could forget to eat." Jessica yawned. "Stop fussing. If you'll excuse me, I have some very important sleeping duties to get back to."

Voices filtered through the door as Bella approached it. She could hear Rosalie and Garrett moving around in the kitchen and living room―too fast for humans, but not quite full vampire speed.

"Grab those and put them in the washing machine," Rosalie said.

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Well, I'm not going to. And they're obviously Jessica's socks. From the look of things, I'd say you've touched a lot more than her feet."

"I only helped her wash her hair. I was just trying to give Bella one less thing to do when she got home. It was Jess's idea. She wore a swimsuit."

"Someone's defensive. Did I ask?"

"You didn't have to. I've known you a long time, my friend. If there's one thing you're never shy about sharing, it's your opinion."

"Just pick up the damn socks and be glad I'm not telling you to scrub the toilet."

Bella opened the door just as Garrett dumped an armful of the offending garments into the washing machine and dusted them with too much detergent. The air smelled like lemon and soap, tinged with the sting of disinfectant. Half of the floor gleamed―or came as close to gleaming as the old linoleum ever got, at least.

Stopping short with a mop submerged in a bucket of sudsy water, Rosalie cringed. "It's not pity," she said. "Well, okay, maybe it is a little, but I thought Jess wouldn't feel up to it, and you have two jobs, so..."

Crossing the room, Bella stepped around the mopped section of the floor and wrapped her arms around Rosalie.

"You really didn't have to do this," she said. "But thanks."

Rosalie smoothed Bella's flyaway hair, her touch as gentle as any mother's. "You're welcome."


	6. Down Among the Dead Men

_**A/N:**__ Hello! Obviously, I didn't succeed in getting this chapter up before my vacation. Sorry about that. Thanks for coming back and continuing to read, anyway. And thanks to GetDrunkOnVictory and shouvley, who were my betas for this chapter. Oh, and thanks to LJ Summers as well, since she helped with some of the more gruesome details when I asked for assistance on Twitter._

_Updates should be back on schedule now that I'm home, so the next one will be on October 28__th__._

_Since it's been so long since the last update, I figured I'd include a summary of what's happened so far, in case anyone needs their memory refreshed (I know I did, and I'm writing the damn thing):_

_Nineteen years ago, something called "temporal energy" was let loose, changing the world in an event called the "Surge." Since then, this energy has gone up and down, occasionally causing storms that pull people through time against their will. Jessica is one such person, and she's developed a disease that attacks time travelers (known as Margaret Brown Syndrome), which Bella worries will kill her within the next year. Bella uses Jake's werewolf blood to alleviate Jessica's symptoms. Because of her time travel, Jessica is only 17, while Bella is 27. Jake and the other wolves can get stuck in one form (wolf or human) for the duration of the storms. They are much, much weaker when stuck as a human. Bella and Jessica work in a lab with Garrett, Emmett, and Rosalie, researching temporal energy. The work they do is illegal, since tampering with the energy can make the storms worse if done incorrectly. Bella also works in a bar run by Emmett and Garrett. Bella knows her employers are vampires, but she's never spoken of it to them. There are people called Raiders who execute time travelers and criminals on a place called Pendle Hill. Three new vampires (Carlisle, Jasper, and Mary – which isn't short for Mary Alice) have shown up with a human Edward. They all work for the same organization, which treats people with Margaret Brown Syndrome and tries to find a way to put the world back to the way it was. Mary is a human-drinker who wears brown contacts to cover up her red eyes. In the previous chapter, after Jasper almost gave into the temptation to kill Bella, Emmett revealed that Alice is stuck somewhere in time. All of the wolves except Seth (another time traveler) and Jake avoid Bella for reasons that haven't yet been revealed. Edward and Bella have become casual friends, and he has joined her ritual of cooking every morning in Rosalie's kitchen. In recent days, Jessica's illness has gotten worse. _

_Whew. I think that about covers it! On with the show. :)_

* * *

**Down Among the Dead Men**

The day before Bella's twenty-eighth birthday, five days before Surge Memorial Day, Carlisle came to the trailer to check up on Jessica. He sat on the edge of the couch, listening to her lungs with a stethoscope he didn't need. His touch was careful and quick, his movements graceful, like it was a dance instead of an examination.

"Thanks for making a house call," Bella said.

"It's no trouble. I wanted to speak to the two of you alone, actually. I've been working with your friend's blood, and I was wondering if Jessica would consent to being my test subject for an experimental treatment."

"May as well," Jessica said. "What else am I gonna do at this point?"

From his black bag, Carlisle produced a syringe of reddish brown liquid. He explained how he'd tried to infuse it with temporal energy, but that only served to remove its healing properties. The never-spoiling blood had gone bad, like the time Bella tried to freeze it. That batch had yielded disastrous results with his lab mice. He was more hopeful about this attempt. Bella thought about telling him of the effect the storms had on Jake and the other wolves—of betraying Jake's trust yet again—but then Carlisle swabbed Jessica's arm with an alcohol wipe, and all Bella could think were words like _vampire_ and _blood_ and _drained_.

Jessica didn't flinch. She watched him push the needle into her skin as if it was someone else's arm, someone else's life. Bella let out a gasping squeak of protest: the strongest noise she could manage. Carlisle turned to her, a curious smile on his face. His eyes remained a clear gold, free of any traces of temptation.

She'd never met anyone—vampire or human—who possessed such restraint.

"I'd like to keep Jessica under observation today," he said. "I can stay here, if that's all right with you."

"Fine by me," Jessica said. "It'll give me someone to talk to for a change. Hey, do you know how to play Crazy Eights?"

.

.

On their descent from Rosalie's kitchen to the lab, Bella and Edward ran into an obstacle: Jasper. He greeted them in Garrett's living room with one of the strained almost-smiles he'd taken to giving her. The same hand she had thought so beautiful in the alley behind the bar raised to stop her as she punched 0433 into the keypad.

"I wouldn't go down there right now," he said, his words coming out in a single breath.

His eyes were still brown, like Mary's. They had been ever since the day after the alley.

"Why?" Edward asked. "Did something go wrong?"

"Not with the lab, but yes." Jasper's shallow inhale sped Bella's own breaths into something close to hyperventilation. "It's Rose and Em. I'd advise against getting in the middle of that."

Bella wanted to rekindle the anger that gripped her in the alley—to let it harden her and make her stronger than Jasper—but time to reflect on her flirtation with death had buried her rage under the cold sting of fear. Edward stayed behind; Bella couldn't think of a reason to insist he accompany her when he declined. He'd been working with Jasper for months, anyway. He would probably be safe. She wanted to—_had_ to—get away from Jasper. She itched to escape his teeth and his eerie power over her body and that claustrophobic, trapped feeling of being someone's prey. Around him, she was uncomfortable in her own skin.

Barging into the lab, Bella marched to her table under the guise of getting started with her work for the day. Her heart refused to calm, even with distance and her friends to keep her from danger.

Instead of stopping their fight, as they usually did, or even talking at vampire speed, Emmett and Rosalie carried on shouting at each other while Bella tried to pretend she couldn't hear them. Garrett was there, too, clanking around on the scaffolding overhead, but to Rosalie and Emmett, no one existed outside of their tense bubble. They flung words at each other like they were something tangible—something sharp enough to slice through their hard skin.

"This is bullshit," Emmett said. "It's like being back in Alaska. How much longer?"

"How am I supposed to know? Ask _them_. And you know very well that—"

"I wasn't talking about _them._ I was talking about _you_. How much longer are you going to hold onto something you don't even want?"

At this, Rosalie abandoned her computer. She stood up and stalked toward Emmett until they almost stood chest-to-chest.

"Where is this coming from?" she asked, throwing her hands in the air. "You're suddenly the expert on what I want?"

"I could be. You forget how long I've known you."

"I don't forget anything."

Emmett's shoulders slumped. Every line of his muscled body read like a white flag. "Maybe I will."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you've been fighting this since we met, and maybe you just won. Congrats. Fate or instinct or whatever might want us together, but I don't. Not anymore. I'm tired of tiptoeing and trying not to pressure you and fucking _waiting_ for years on end. I give up." A thready imitation of his usual hearty laugh passed through his lips. "Jesus. You actually managed to wear me out."

Rosalie's voice went shrill, her words slowing as if they clawed at her throat in a desperate fight to stay locked away. "Trying not to pressure me? Right. All you've ever given me is pressure."

"You know that's not true."

"So all of that stuff about waiting forever if you had to was a lie? What, am I supposed to chase after you now? Soothe your poor, hurt little feelings? Play the subservient woman and let you make my choices for me?"

Jaw clenched, Emmett crossed his arms over his chest. "Fate is an idiot, and apparently so am I. Why did I ever believe I was in love with you?"

A siren cried, protesting Emmett's departure as he took the one-way emergency exit to the garage. Rosalie turned, eyes closed, and threw the first thing her quaking fingers found: the Canary, the small but vital machine that chirped out a warning if the lab's occupants needed to get above ground. The unlucky, coffee pot sized gizmo exploded on the opposite wall in a shower of glass, gears, and oily black liquid.

While Garrett hopped over to shut off the siren and Jasper and Edward rattled down the stairs, Bella set her work aside. Rosalie didn't seem to care when Bella put an arm around her. She didn't even move, aside from an ever-so-slight lean into Bella's embrace.

"Poor Canary," Edward said, nudging its remains with the toe of his shoe. "You really did a number on it. Guess that's it for the day, then. Not like we can work without it. I don't suppose you have the spare parts lying around, do you?"

"No." Rosalie watched the stain on the wall trickle toward the floor—watched greasy black spread across tile and cement. One of her hands pressed over her heart, as if trying to patch a hole there. "We don't have the supplies to fix it."

The weather screen revealed bright blue skies in the world above the lab. Taking the long way around to the garage confirmed Bella's suspicions. Emmett had taken Garrett's car, claiming the tinted windows for himself. The only other car capable of preventing the vampires from sparkling at passers-by was Carlisle's boring sedan, still parked outside Bella and Jessica's trailer.

Garrett gave Rosalie's arm a squeeze as she rubbed her forehead. "Aw, c'mon," he said. "You may as well let him. You'll get the parts faster."

"Or I could ask Bella."

"He knows more about that stuff, though. He'd actually recognize the parts you need."

"They'll both go, then. She'll drive."

Garrett softened his voice, adding a gentle smile to his whisper of, "Learn to bend a little, Rosie."

Pressing her lips together, Rosalie reached into the pocket of her scrubs. Edward barely managed to catch the keys she threw at him. His gaze flew back and forth between Rosalie and her car. All Bella knew about the thing was that it was a Camaro, manufactured in the 1960s, got horrible gas mileage, and her legs stuck to the seats if she wore shorts on a hot day. She'd never cared enough to learn more.

"Are you serious?" Edward asked.

"Don't make me regret it," Rosalie said. "One scratch—just one—and I will deep fry you and feed you to the Raiders. Got it? You'll need to go to La Grande and Baker for some of the parts, unfortunately. La Grande is... Well, it's not pleasant. Be careful. Bella will go along and help you out, if that's okay with her. One scratch on her will also get you deep fried. Don't drive too fast; it isn't a race."

"Yeah, of course." Edward held the keys like he expected Rosalie to take them back. "Deep fried. Got it."

Garrett gave them the names and locations of his black market contacts. As Bella went upstairs to change her clothes and pack their lunch, she repeated the contacts over and over in her head: an illegal song with no music. They couldn't risk writing them down. When she returned to the garage, Edward was right where she'd left him: already behind the wheel. He hopped out and held the passenger side door open for her, like he couldn't pass up the chance to touch the car as much as possible.

Rosalie watched them take off from the shade of the garage. As the car rambled down the driveway, Bella glanced back just in time to see Jasper place a hand on Rosalie's shoulder.

"See?" Edward said, flashing Bella a grin as they pulled onto the main road. "Told you I had a plan to get her to let me drive her car."

"You instigated the fight between her and Emmett, did you?"

"I'll never tell. But hey, I must've worn her down somehow, right? She could've done this herself, instead of asking me to be her errand boy."

"Mm. Right."

Smiling to herself, Bella leaned back and turned on the radio. Driving toward the freeway with the sun beating down on the car, she felt almost normal, like someone in a pre-Surge movie. Someone who took road trips full of loud music, junk food, and friends—not that Rosalie would ever allow snacking in her car, of course. Watching Edward drive, his enthusiasm seeped into her, like the love of machines was something contagious. Now that it was in her blood, she'd never escape it.

"How did you get into all of this?" she asked. "Cars and machines and stuff, I mean."

"Hmm. That's a long story."

"We have plenty of time."

"It's also a boring story." Jiggling his leg, he shifted in his seat. "The short version is that I needed to develop some sort of skill to support myself, and technology always fascinated me. Not that I was doing anything terribly high-tech before I joined the company. I was working in a tire shop in Rockford when I met Alice."

"Jasper's wife?"

"Yeah. I don't think they were together back then, though. This was, hmm, six years ago. I didn't meet him until I moved to Chesterton, and by then, she was already lost. Anyway, Alice invited me to join, sent me to work with a guy named Randall, and the rest is history." As they merged onto the cracked remnants of Interstate 84, heading east, he squinted into the distance. "We have to cross _the_ hill to get there, don't we?"

"Yeah. We do."

The steep climb up Pendle Hill was soaked in trees, potential gallows everywhere. In post-Charlie Forks, the hangings had taken place in the town square. As long as Sheriff Ashby and his officers retained some semblance of law and order in Pendleton, the Raiders would keep hiding in the woods that blanketed this hill, using the cloak of vines and leaves to carry out what they thought to be their sacred duty. Across the divide separating the eastbound and westbound lanes, rusted vehicles were piled up in a runaway truck ramp. It must have looked so different before the Surge, back when it was still called Cabbage Hill—before the Raiders stole the name of a far away home of former witch hunts.

"There used to be sagebrush up here," Bella said, borrowing Jessica's title of Edward's Official Tour Guide. "Or so the locals tell me, anyway."

"Really? I thought all of Oregon was like this, even before the Surge. All green and covered in forests."

In his deep voice, the state's name sounded like he hadn't been living there for nearly a month, as if he'd never ventured west. He pronounced the last syllable like the word "gone." Bella wrinkled her nose.

"Only western Oregon," she said, emphasizing the correct pronunciation. Her thoughts drifted to the green stripe on the pull-down map in her first grade classroom. She used to stand on her tiptoes to touch the bumps in the map that represented the mountains, scarcely believing she was born in that alien, rain-drenched corner of the country.

Edward's soft laugh gave him away; he knew exactly how he should have said Oregon.

"Brat," she said. "Just for that, I'm going to start pronouncing the 's' in Illinois."

"But will my eye twitch like yours does when I say Oregon?" His head swiveled back and forth, as if he couldn't decide whether to watch the road or the scenery. "I can't imagine this being all brown and dead looking."

"Neither can I."

As they climbed higher, a few remnants of what the land used to be popped up here and there: tumbleweeds and dry patches of grass. Bella kicked off her shoes and propped her feet on the dashboard. Unable to look at the trees without imagining bodies strung up in the branches, she stared at Edward's decorated arms, instead. When he caught her, she didn't look away.

"Do any of them mean anything?" she asked.

He nodded. "They do, but those stories are also pretty long."

"If Jessica was here, she'd probably ask if you're trying to do that _guy_ thing where you don't answer any questions about yourself so you seem more interesting."

She didn't know why she phrased it that way, passing the blame like it was Jessica's thought instead of her own. Somehow, it was easier to use Jessica as a buffer between herself and the rest of the world: a giggly, smart-mouthed filter. Edward laughed.

"Do guys do that?" he asked.

"I have no idea, to be honest. Jess claims they do."

"Well, then it must be true." His eyebrows rose in an odd, strained sort of way, like he was trying to raise only one, but the muscles of his forehead wouldn't cooperate. "Why, is it working? Am I mysterious?"

"Nope. Total open book. I'm not at all interested in your top secret tattoos."

"When you put it that way, you make it sound like I have tattoos on my ass."

"Do you?"

"If I answer that, it'll no longer be a mystery." He switched the radio off as the music fizzled into static. "Y'know, I've been here for a while now, and I don't really know what you do outside of working, cooking, and Jessica." His hand dropped from the dial, waving at Bella's feet. "More importantly, I have no idea why your socks don't match."

Tilting her knees to one side, she looked at her sun-warmed feet. One sock was red, the other black. She wiggled her toes on the dashboard.

"They were both clean, which is all I ever ask of my socks," she said. "Also, I don't _do_ Jessica."

"Good to know." His mouth twitched as if he was battling a grin but wanted to lose the fight. "You'd think after so much couples therapy, we would've learned some better communication skills."

"It's a shame. We used to have such a healthy marriage."

His green eyes turned toward her, not even pretending to watch the road. "Maybe we should start baking with other people."

"So you can replace me with some barely-legal floozy who probably doesn't even bother to sift her flour? Pah. Typical."

"And so you can take me for all I have in alimony, I'm sure."

"Not everything. Just half. I can't let my supply of cupcakes dry out, can I? How would I explain it to Jessica?"

"I suppose that's true. Maybe we'd better stay together after all."

"Mm. Seems easier. Who needs communication when you have cupcakes?" She paused, tapping her fingers against her knees before adding, "You know I'm just kidding, right? You don't have to tell me about any of the tattoos if they're too personal."

"And here I thought you were being serious, what with all of the talk about our formerly thriving marriage." With a smile, he pointed to one of the tattoos: the jagged blue seashell that curled between the frayed rope and what Bella thought was Chicago's skyline. "This one is for my first foster mother. Her name was Shelly."

"Was she the one who taught you how to cook?"

"She was. I lived with her until I was fourteen, which is why the tattoo looks so horrible. It wasn't exactly legally done."

Bella's index finger traced the spiral of the shell. The skin there was like his hands: rough and hard, like his whole body had been toughened by work.

"What happened to her?" she asked.

"She died. Natural causes, though. She put butter in everything. Her heart eventually objected."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

Once Pendle Hill was behind them, the remainder of the fifty miles to La Grande passed in easy silence. Bella used her meager local knowledge to direct him to a parking lot near the market square. She'd only been to La Grande once or twice, shortly after her arrival in Pendleton. The first person they needed to visit operated out of the back room of a secondhand clothing store.

At first glance, La Grande's market was much like Pendleton's. Tents, carts, and half-rebuilt shops formed a ring around worn-out asphalt, but something extra sat in the middle—something Pendleton didn't have. On a platform above the crowd, a wooden beam formed a frame with two posts, like a stage waiting for its marionettes.

Too many people jostled Bella as Edward led her in search of the secondhand store with his hand on the small of her back. Red armbands were everywhere. Her throat constricted. This was worse than the stories she'd heard at the bar. It was like Forks. The Raiders owned this place. Edging closer to Edward, she felt in her bag for her gun. Its weight wasn't comforting—not like a metal security blanket—but it was steady. It was reliable. She could still use it, if she had to. She could fight back.

Near the edge of the square, a cry rang out. The crowd parted for a red haired man, an executioner in a black hood, and a woman whose wrists were bound by rope.

"Oh, God," Bella said, searching for an escape route. They had to get out of there. The Canary could wait for the weather to allow Garrett to leave the house.

In towns like this, to run away instead of staying and watching "justice" get carried out would be to invite suspicion. Taking the lead, she tried to slip out of the market without being noticed. Edward followed, so close she could feel his breath on her neck, but they were surrounded. There were too many people—too many armbands. The redheaded man spoke up, turning all eyes toward the platform, except those that stared at Bella and Edward's slow crawl toward safety. Edward stopped, grabbing her arm to tell her without words to do the same.

The condemned woman had a tangle of caramel colored hair and eyes that seemed half-dead already. Filthy, bare feet and a too-slender body spoke of someone who had been on the run for weeks, if not months. Bella wondered if this prisoner of the Raiders had been trying to reach Pendleton—if she'd heard of their organization through whispers and rumors and had hoped to be saved. She'd gotten so close. A few Margaret Brown's lesions peeked out from beneath the torn collar of her baggy dress. Mottled bruises created a patchwork of purple, green, and faded yellow on her jaw. As the redheaded man continued reading from the paper in his hand, the executioner shoved the woman up the stairs to the platform.

Bella hardly heard the list of crimes over the roaring in her ears. The woman was, of course, accused of experimenting with temporal energy. A recent storm had killed a family of three—a bad time for such a scapegoat to wander into town. A snippet caught Bella's attention and made her stomach lurch. The woman's infant son was listed as another casualty. She'd been pregnant when she arrived in La Grande, and now she wasn't. She was a mother.

Her already-dead eyes met Bella's. For a moment, Bella didn't care if anyone was watching. She didn't hide—didn't fear the Raiders as she mouthed, "I'm sorry." The only response she got was a shiver.

When the redheaded man asked for the woman's last words, he received even less of a reply. Her chapped lips didn't open. She didn't so much as release a sob.

Bella wanted to shoot them all—to end every person there who wore an armband. A thousand possible rescue missions trampled through her mind, each more improbable than the last. To keep herself from trying any of them, she grabbed Edward's hand. The only thing an attempted rescue would accomplish would be another rope joining its friend on that stage, waiting to tighten around Bella's neck. She squeezed Edward's hand hard. He squeezed back: real and tight and reminding her why she couldn't play at being a hero. She tried to think of Jessica, but only succeeded in seeing her superimposed over the face of the mother.

They made the woman stand on a stool. She stepped up without urging, as if she welcomed it. Bella prayed the drop would be far enough to snap her neck and keep her from suffering like Sam did. Unless she was also a werewolf in addition to being a time traveler, she wouldn't stay alive as long as he had, but anything beyond an instant death was too much.

As the executioner slipped the noose over the woman's head, Bella caught a glimpse of red, bull's-eye shaped sores on the stripe of skin where the executioner's hood ended and her black cloak began. Something ugly within Bella ached to see the executioner strung up for the accused woman's supposed crimes. Raiders always seemed to be exempt from their own rules. It was forever someone else's fault—someone who tricked them in some way and dragged them through time.

The silence that draped over the crowd felt like a drum roll. One expert kick to the stool made Edward's grip on Bella's fingers tighten to an almost crushing level. Bella didn't watch the hanging. She pretended, staring at the back of a man's head and counting the moles on his bald scalp and trying to breathe for the woman who lost her baby. She let everything else go fuzzy, until she didn't see that slim body twitching and struggling.

When it was finally over, Edward didn't let go of Bella's hand. He kept his fingers laced with hers until they found Garrett's contact and he had to accompany the stooped old woman into the back room.

They weren't as careful as they should have been, as if daring the Raiders to catch them and give them an excuse to start shooting, but they purchased the required parts for an exorbitant fee and made it back to the car without incident. Further east, they found Baker City: a quiet, dusty place with near-deserted streets. To Bella, it felt like everyone there had seen the mother's hanging and didn't want to face the sun as it shone on in the obscenely blue sky.

The errands in Baker took hours. Bella and Edward had to go to a contact's house, and he took so long to complete their request that Bella began to wonder if they were being set up. Purchasing a fresh, illegal tank full of gas was an equally slow process. The sun had nearly vanished behind the mountains by the time they were back on the road. When Edward pulled off of the freeway into La Grande again, night had crept in.

"What are you doing?" Bella asked.

He touched her hand briefly—just a tap, like he was trying to ground himself. "You don't have to come with me. You can wait in the car."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I'm going to cut her down, if I can."

Bella sat up straighter. "I'm going with you."

Before the Surge, La Grande had been a college town. Without its annual influx of noise and youth, it had become the sort of place that rolled up its sidewalks when darkness fell. After parking in an alley, Edward got his toolbox out of the trunk and produced a knife and two pairs of gloves.

"Tie your hair back," he said, offering Bella a length of twine along with two of the gloves. She took it, even though she knew there was a hair-tie swimming around somewhere in the contents of her bag.

The square was deserted. Nothing but Edward's determined strides disturbed the quiet—not even a breeze to set the limp body swaying. The first thing Bella saw, though she tried to look anywhere else, was the woman's tongue: swollen and protruding. Her face was dark—purple, maybe, like Sam's had been when his body finally gave up. In the scant light, Bella couldn't tell.

Bella acted as lookout while Edward sawed through the rope. Each rasp of the blade against the rough fibers echoed through the square. From her position next to the platform, Bella could smell everything the woman's body had released as it let go of its life. Swallowing hard against the rising tide of nausea, she risked a glance up at the rope. Almost there.

Finally, the mother's body fell, slumping over the arm Edward had locked around her waist. He carried her away from the gallows, out of the market, and lay her down next to a memorial fountain in the park. While he cut through the noose, Bella worked on unbinding the wrists. Here, away from the square and the memories, she could deal with the body, sad as it was. Here, it was just a body.

The yellow glow of a streetlight let them see the rope burns on her neck. Bella unearthed a packet of tissues from her bag. With the help of a sprinkling of water from the fountain, she used the tissues to clean the woman as well as she could: wiping her soiled feet and legs; dabbing her wounds; smoothing her matted, golden brown hair.

If they hadn't cut her down, Bella wasn't sure how long the dead woman would've hung there as a grotesque warning to others. In Forks, it was always at least a day. Everyone there was so frightened—especially the Raiders.

When the woman looked as peaceful as they could manage, they threw the rope and sopping tissues into a garbage can and ran back to the car. Bella thought she heard a shout from the square, but maybe it was just her imagination crafting enemies from the fear that tightened around her chest: boogeymen waiting to jump out of the shadows.

Back on the freeway, Edward and Bella kept the windows rolled down. As they soared down Pendle Hill, he took her hand. From that moment until they reached the trailer, he only let go of her when he had to switch gears.

Carlisle's car had vanished from the driveway. The trailer's windows were dark, giving it the look of something abandoned and empty, like Jessica was already gone.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Edward said—the first words either of them had spoken since he told her to tie her hair back.

Bella nodded. "See you."

She hurried across the gravel, feeling exposed in the twin white beams of the headlights. The car didn't pull away until she flicked the light switch in the bathroom. After shedding her clothes, she showered until her skin was almost raw, changed into her oldest pajamas, and tiptoed into Jessica's room.

"Hey," Jessica said with a lazy smile as Bella lay down next to her. "You have another nightmare?"

"No. Not really. How are you? Any side effects?"

"Not yet."

Holding Jessica's hand, Bella listened to her friend's steady breaths slide into snores. When she closed her eyes, she saw frayed ropes and purple faces behind her eyelids.

Sleep didn't find her for a long time.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ The witch hunt Bella referred to was that of the Pendle witches: twelve people who lived in the area surrounding Pendle Hill in Lancashire, England. In 1612, they were accused of committing murder by witchcraft. Of those who survived until the trial, ten were found guilty and hanged._


	7. Oh, Don't Deceive Me

_**A/N:**__ ElleCC and __evelyn-shaye were my betas for this chapter, so thanks to both of them. And thank you, too, for reading. :) The next update should be on November 11__th__._

* * *

**Oh, Don't Deceive Me**

A note lay on the counter a few inches from Edward's folded arms. With each of his quiet snores, the paper fluttered. Inhale, it flattened against the counter. Exhale, it curled up against the cup that weighed it down. Creeping closer, Bella knit her eyebrows together. The cup was full of flour—an ordinary enough occurrence for their mornings together—or it would have been, if not for the flickering candle that sat in the middle of the sifted powder. A glance at the note provided an explanation, spelled out in angular handwriting that she assumed to be Edward's.

_IOU: One birthday cupcake._

Smiling and shaking her head, she touched his shoulder. He jerked awake, his eyes darting back and forth like a soldier's, searching for danger. When his gaze landed on her, he smiled, turning sleepy-sweet.

"Happy birthday," he said.

"Thanks. How did you know?"

"Pft. Like I'd forget my fake wife's birthday." A yawn stretched his mouth so wide, she could see the fillings in his bottom molars. "Rosalie mentioned it last night, during our one and only break. Does she _ever_ rest?"

"I've heard rumors of such things happening, but I've never seen it with my own eyes."

"Well, the Canary is fixed, at least. And I really will make you that birthday cupcake as soon as I'm not too tired to breathe." His forehead dropped back down to rest on his hands, accompanied by muffled ramblings about a slave driver.

"Come on," she said, tugging his elbow. "Counters make lousy pillows. Let's get you to bed."

Something like a blend of a snore and a laugh burst from his lips. "I wish Jessica was here for that one."

"Tsk. If we're going to have a threesome, it won't be with Jess. She's way too young for us."

As soon as the words left her mouth, it felt as if all of Bella's blood rushed into her face, burning into a blush. Grinning, Edward toed off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head. The tattoos ended at his shoulders, leaving his torso a blank slate. He had the kind of body that looked strong in a quiet way, crafted from years of hard work rather than hours lifting weights. When she turned the sheets down for him, he slid too close to her before flopping down on the spot that had, until recently, always been occupied by Jessica.

"Just a quick nap," he said, his words blurring at the edges as another yawn forced its way out. "Wake me up when you're ready to go down to the lab, okay?"

"I will."

As she smoothed the blankets down, mostly out of habit, he caught her hand in his. Thoughts of the previous day bubbled up, leaving her wondering if they would get away with what they'd done.

"You're good at this," he said. "Tucking people in, I mean."

"I've had a lot of practice."

With that, Bella's mind whooshed back even further, traveling through the years and settling on the times she helped to babysit Angela's little brothers, Joshua and Isaac. Twin smiles and tiny voices shouting her name used to warm her whenever she entered the Webers' house. As soon as she left their room on the nights she watched them, the boys always crowded into one bed to whisper to each other until they couldn't keep their eyes open.

What were those boys doing now? Did Isaac still carry his father's Bible, twisting the words until they meant what he wanted them to mean? Did he still wear that red arm band, or had he become something closer to the sweet kid she'd once known?

"Do I get a bedtime story?" Edward asked.

The curving of Bella's lips into an indulgent smile wiped away thoughts of the past, as if Edward made her brand new. "Once upon a time, Rosalie took a day off and we all got at least eight hours of sleep. The end."

Snuggling deeper into the bed, Edward let out a happy, goofy sigh. "Tell it again, tell it again."

Bella chuckled. "Get some sleep."

.

.

As people geared up for Surge Memorial Day, bouquets of flowers popped up everywhere: miniature, temporary monuments to the fallen. Dozens clustered around a closed-off entrance to the tunnels that ran underneath Pendleton, where hundreds of people had lost their lives as they'd tried to hide from the destructive power that had changed their world. Most of the arrangements were fake: polyester shreds of the pre-Surge days, dyed purple for remembrance. As usual, a few fallen leaves and scores of American flags were sprinkled across the displays. Bella trudged past them, pushing a rattling, old-lady-style shopping cart with a liner that may have once been plaid, but was now mostly brownish-gray. Paying for gas for the weekly grocery trip didn't make sense when the weather was still so nice. Two long winters in Pendleton had taught her to take advantage of the ice-free sidewalks while she still could.

With two miles still left to go, an old van pulled up alongside her. Bella kept walking, trying to pretend she didn't notice it crawling to match her pace.

"Hey," a familiar voice said. It was Tom, her coworker from the bar. "Want a lift?"

The walls that had risen when she thought him to be a stranger caved in a little, but they didn't dissolve. "No, thanks. I don't mind walking."

"You sure? It'd be no trouble. I'm going to Oregon Trail Grocery, anyway, if that's where you're headed."

It _would_ save time. If she accepted his offer, she'd be able to enjoy a few hours of relaxation before she had to work at the bar. With a smile and a quick word of thanks, she hauled her cart into the back and climbed into the passenger seat.

Tom's van looked—and smelled—like its former owner was a time traveler from the 1960s. Perhaps the shag carpet in the back was Tom's choice, though. She didn't know anything about his life outside of work.

As they passed through town, their progress was slowed by a protest outside City Hall. People holding home-painted signs clogged the street, shouting their dissatisfaction with the war. A few conspiracy theorists sat on the fringe of it. Bella doubted they were affiliated with the pacifist group; they probably just joined in when they saw the opportunity. Instead of messages calling for peace, their signs accused the government of causing the storms.

Storms were the new moon landing—the new JFK assassination. The fact that the government prohibited ordinary citizens from experimenting with temporal energy only added fuel to the fire of the tinfoil hat brigade.

A hand raised in the center of the group, waving at Tom and Bella: Adam. The banner he held was simple, decorated only with a purple peace sign. Seeing him in the sunlight without a drink in his hand was like watching Rosalie or Garrett dig into a buffet of human food: strange and unnatural. Tom waved back, pulling close to the curb on the wrong side of the street to get past the noisy tangle of people.

While they shopped together, neither Bella nor Tom said much. She followed him through the sparsely stocked aisles, dodging a puddle of water one of the freezers had leaked onto the cement floor. The things Tom piled into his cart were almost identical to her selections, but halved to serve one person instead of two. Same block of waxy orange cheese, same skinny chicken with yellowed skin, same bag of rice. After they'd completed their purchases, she barely bothered to protest before giving into his offer to drive her home.

"Want some help unpacking?" he asked as he pulled up in front of the trailer.

A laugh fought to be released at the idea of him voluntarily doing anything that could be classified as work. Swallowing her amusement, Bella shook her head. "That's okay. Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. See? I'm not such a bad guy, am I?"

"Who said you were?"

"You. At every opportunity."

This time, the laugh escaped. Bella couldn't deny it.

"If you won't let me help unpack, can I at least use your bathroom?" he asked with a hesitant smile. "I would've gone at the store, but I made that mistake once. Never again."

"That bad?"

"In order to describe it, I'd have to use words that'd make my mother wash my mouth out, no matter how old I am." Jingling his keys as he pulled them from the ignition, he raised one shoulder. "So... bathroom?"

"Um. Yeah, sure. Just let me make sure Jessica is decent, first."

"Aww, where's the fun in that?"

Before he'd finished the statement or the eyebrow wiggle that accompanied it, Bella shoved him—harder than she intended.

"She's seventeen, you ass," she said. "Hands off."

Funny. Tom was twenty-three: probably decades, if not centuries, younger than Garrett, and yet Bella didn't have a problem with _Garrett_ pursuing Jessica.

Tom smirked. "So looking is all right, then?"

"Don't make me call your mother to wash your mind out." Hopping out of the van and lifting her loaded cart from the back, she added, "Give me just a minute."

Inside, she found Jessica lounging on the couch in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, watching old cartoons. Bella lunged for the basket of clean laundry she had yet to put away and rummaged through it until she found one of Jessica's bras.

"Put this on," she said, flinging the scrap of cotton into Jessica's lap. "Tom is outside, and he wants to use the bathroom."

"Tom? As in, Bar Tom? Makes You Do His Job for Him Tom?"

"Yep. So put the girls on a leash, would you?"

Amid Jessica's grumbling about said "girls" wanting to be free, Bella raced to the bathroom. An old towel gained a new life as a makeshift bag as she piled all of Jessica's pills, ointments, experimental treatments, and vials of Jake's blood onto it and carried the bundle to her own bedroom. At first, she stashed the evidence in her underwear drawer, then thought better of it and chose her sock drawer instead. Less chance of Tom rooting around in there. With one last check of everything he might see and a few deep breaths to calm her unreasonably panicked nerves, she returned to the living room.

"Ugh," Jessica said, grimacing as she plucked at the elastic of the bra through her shirt. "He'd better be quick."

Nodding, Bella tugged on her friend's shirt to make sure any and all marks were well-covered. Back outside, she found Tom hunched over, going through his glove compartment.

"Okay," she said from the wooden steps. "Come on in."

He didn't repeat the offer to help her unpack. He was quick: in and out in less than five minutes. To Bella's relief, he only offered Jessica a smile and a brief hello. As soon as the front door shut behind him again, Bella decided to check every room he'd entered for signs of snooping. Jessica was already pulling her bra out of her t-shirt sleeve in the few seconds it took Bella to lock the door.

"Damn," Bella said, her eyebrows shooting up. "You're fast."

"I think that was a personal best, actually." After flinging the bra back into the laundry basket, Jessica dusted her hands together. "Do you think they have contests for bra removal?"

"If they did, you'd be the champion."

"I could make a career out of it, give lessons to clueless teenage boys."

"You're so sweet. Always thinking of others."

"Guilty as charged." Lips pursed, Jessica tapped a finger against her chin. "I guess I wouldn't make a very good super villain after all. No one would cower in fear when people say, 'There goes the Pock-Marked Enchantress. Her heart's as big as her boobs,' would they?"

Bella snorted. After a cursory look through both of their bedrooms and the bathroom, she joined Jessica on the couch. "I thought you were going to be called High Queen of Everything."

"That's later." Kicking her feet up, Jessica wiggled around and adjusted her position until Bella felt more like a pillow than a person. "I won't be High Queen of Everything until after I complete the whole world domination thing."

"Oh. Right. Well, I don't know. Maybe you could be a super villain. You could also teach the boys to use the bras as slingshots to fling bombs or water balloons or whatever at your enemies. Yours could hold quite a lot of ammo."

Jessica laughed, her head nodding against Bella's shoulder with each intake of breath. "This is why you're my second-in-command."

.

.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Bella scrubbed the bar until she thought she might clean her way through the varnish.

It was none of her business. She shouldn't get in the middle of Rosalie and Emmett's fight, especially when she had no idea what they were arguing about. As a friend to both of the involved parties, she should remain neutral. She knew this.

So why did she want to walk over to the woman who was whispering in Emmett's ear, shove her to one side, and stamp "Property of Rose" on his forehead?

The woman giggled, leaning closer to Emmett. The tramp.

No, that was unfair. He was unattached—always had been, as long as Bella had known him. The woman wasn't doing anything wrong. Bella actually liked her, from what she knew of her. The woman tipped well, wasn't a Raider, and didn't start any fights—a model customer. Emmett seemed to like her as well.

Bella scowled. No, not her business.

Aside from a smattering of patrons who had chosen to spend the time leading up to Surge Memorial Day with their booze of choice instead of with what might remain of their families, only Mary sat at the bar. In between pretend sips of her vodka tonic, she scanned the crowd.

A couple of the less inebriated patrons turned to face the front door as it swung open and Rosalie stepped inside. For once, her hair was free of its usual ponytail, hanging down her back in soft waves. Instead of baggy hospital scrubs, she wore a pretty sundress that would've left her legs covered in goosebumps, had she been human.

She arrived just in time to see Emmett lead his human admirer into the kitchen, his big hand spanning the small of the woman's back. Bella's stomach dropped, like she'd been yanked back to 1989 to watch Renee leave Charlie. Without a word, Rosalie marched outside.

"Go on," Mary said, shooing Bella toward the door. "Go after her, if you want. I'll cover the rest of your shift. Em and Garrett won't mind. Well, Garrett won't, anyway."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, why not? How hard can it be?"

Bella breathed out a laugh and said, "Nothing good ever happens after people say those words," but she still took Mary up on her offer.

The air outside was crisp, chilled by the approach of autumn or, perhaps, the climate between Rosalie and Emmett. Bella zigzagged between cars until she found the one she wanted. The passenger side door was unlocked, allowing her to slide in next to Rosalie.

Keeping silent, not even glancing at her friend, Bella placed her hand on top of Rosalie's cool one where it rested on the steering wheel. Together, they stared through the windshield at nothing in particular. Out of the corner of her eye, Bella caught a single tremble of Rosalie's lower lip, but no tears welled up and spilled over.

Maybe vampires couldn't cry, or maybe it was just Rose.

"He doesn't even need that stupid eye patch," Rosalie said, her voice too sharp against the fuzzy backdrop of music and life that poured from the bar.

"Really?"

"Yeah. He's... Well, people expect him to have served in the war, but he got out of it in not entirely legal ways. He lies and tells people the eye is an old war injury, but really, he mostly wears it because he thinks it makes him look like a bad ass."

Rosalie's left hand tapped against the seat, like she couldn't bear sitting still. The movement drew Bella's attention to the missing pinky finger. There was no faking _that_.

"You can stay with us if you don't want to go home tonight," Bella said instead of asking about the pinky. "We can watch movies and avoid facing Emmett."

Rosalie scoffed. "I think I'm the only one who wants to do that last one."

"Don't be so sure. I kind of want to avoid him for the moment. The temptation to smack him upside the head is too great."

With an almost-smile, Rosalie started the car. "Trust me, that feeling will only get stronger the longer you know him."

Guilt punched Bella in the stomach. So much for remaining neutral and not badmouthing the man—the _friend_—who had saved her life. Rosalie put the car in gear and aimed it toward the trailer.

They found Jessica in the same place Bella had left her: on the couch, watching TV. Without prompting, Rosalie filled her in on what had happened.

"Ugh," Jessica said before Rosalie had a chance to complete the story. "He's just trying to make you jealous with that ugly girl."

"She wasn't ugly," Rosalie said.

"Compared to you? _Please_." Rolling her eyes, Jessica placed her hands on her hips. "Stupid Emmett. This is so high school."

This made Rosalie genuinely smile, a little.

The three of them chose to congregate on Bella's bed, even though it was smaller. Jessica claimed her room smelled too much like convalescence. While the other two selected a movie, Bella ducked into the bathroom to change out of her work clothes and get ready for bed. Upon returning to them, she discovered Rosalie twisting Jessica's long hair into a French braid. Rosalie had borrowed one of Jessica's nightshirts, so they matched. If Bella squinted, they almost looked like sisters.

"There," Rosalie said as she snapped an elastic over the end of the braid. "Beautiful."

Bella lay in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between Jessica's warmth and Rosalie's chill, like the two halves of her body were in different parts of the world. Not even twenty minutes into the movie, Jessica dozed off. She cuddled up to Bella, making the snuffling noises that always came right before her snoring began.

"You can have Jess's room, if you want," Bella said, realizing with a start that Rosalie might want to sneak out to hunt. "I'll stay in here. I'm used to her snoring."

In the hazy blue light of the television, with her bright hair fanned out over a pillow, Rosalie looked closer to human, like she was something in between. "It's fine," she said. "I'm kind of having fun. I never did anything like this when I was a little girl."

"Seriously? No slumber parties or anything?"

"Not that I can remember."

Propping herself up with one elbow, Bella gave a sad shake of her head. "Well, that's just unacceptable. You missed out on an essential rite of passage. Later on, you and I are going to freeze Jessica's bra and put her hand in warm water."

With a soft smile, Rosalie copied Bella's pose. "Oh, we are, are we? What else? Prank calling Garrett? Truth or dare?"

"Blech. I always pick truth. I learned my lesson when Tyler Crowley dared me to run down his street buck naked. His parents caught us just as my shirt came off."

"Oh, dear." The bed shook with Rosalie's laughter. She covered her mouth with her palm and spread her fingers, obscuring most of her face. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen. I was so mad at Jess that night, but I can't remember why. I think maybe she said I wouldn't do it—that I was too shy, or something. She always picked dare."

"Well, I suppose you showed her."

"Yeah, her and Mr. and Mrs. Crowley."

Jessica kicked the back of Bella's leg and let out a snort. Standing up and crossing to the other side of the bed, Rosalie pulled the remote from Jessica's grip and turned off the TV. It took a few seconds for Bella's eyes to adjust well enough to see Rosalie tugging the covers up over Jessica's shoulder and patting the curls that had already escaped from the braid.

"I wouldn't even know what to ask if we did play that game," Rosalie said as she lay back down.

"I guess you already know a lot of my secrets."

Except the most important ones.

"Tell me something I don't know, then," Rosalie said.

After a beat, the words—the ones Bella had spoken only once before—came out in a rushed whisper. Telling Jake hadn't been necessary. He knew. After Sam was captured, they'd drafted battle plans. Sam's death had been ugly and drawn out. None of the other wolves wanted that. After the fact, all she'd needed to do was show the gun to Jake and say, "Leah was right. It worked."

The only other person to hear her admit her crime out loud was curled up against her back, fast asleep.

"I killed someone."

After so much time keeping them locked away, Bella thought letting the words loose into the world would feel something like relief. Wasn't confession supposed to be good for the soul?

Without strong light to reveal their golden color, Rosalie's wide eyes could have been pale blue. Maybe, in life, they had been—or green, like Edward's. Her lips parted, but it took a few moments for sound to follow.

"Well. That's... that's a pretty big secret." No judgment crept into her voice; she kept it low and steady. "How long ago was this? Am I going to need to worry about smuggling you out of the country?"

"No, no. It was two years ago. In Forks."

"I see." Still that measured tone, that neutral expression. "That explains a few things. Did you have a good reason for doing it?"

"Yes."

A short, satisfied nod followed, as if that settled the matter. "Me too."

Bella had always assumed that Rosalie had racked up a body count before switching to the all-animal diet, but she didn't think her friend would classify thirst as a good reason for murder.

"Who was yours?" Bella asked.

"Someone who hurt me, a long time ago. Yours?"

"Someone who loved me."

For the first time in a long while, Bella let herself really think about that day—about the chase and the trigger and the silence and the noise, about Embry and Isaac.

It had taken three shots. The first bullet hit a Raider's arm. The second sank into Embry's shoulder. She should've gotten closer before she fired, but she hadn't wanted to risk getting caught before she could keep her promise to save him from the slow torture Sam had experienced at the hands of the Raiders. Even so, she'd succeeded. The third bullet found its mark between Embry's eyebrows.

It was the only choice. She couldn't have rescued him alive; there were too many Raiders crowded around his weakened human form, preparing to cart him into town like a trophy. He'd known that. His nod when he caught sight of her had proved as much.

But then she got herself out, didn't she? Some angel of mercy.

During her escape through the forest, Isaac Weber had been the one to tackle her to the ground. He was fast—always had been, even when he was little. Bella remembered sitting on a curb with Jessica and Angela before any of them realized how ugly and beautiful the world could be, judging Isaac's foot races with his twin.

That boy grew up to be a Raider, but Bella thought it was the ever-smiling kid she used to know who let her go. In spite of the man's red arm band, the kid had helped her to her feet and told her to run.

"Did you love him?" Rosalie asked, jerking Bella out of the past as if she had become the Surge.

"As a friend, yes. Very much. I mean, we were together a few times, but it was sort of a... I don't know. A convenience thing."

"Friends with benefits?"

"Yeah. Off and on." The sheet twisted around Bella's fingers, trembling along with them as if it, too, were still lost in too-clear memories. "Is that what it's like with you and Em?"

"Well, sometimes I _do_ want to kill him."

Bella winced, but said nothing. Rosalie's fingers combed through Bella's hair as if trying to soothe the words away.

"Sorry," Rosalie said with a shake of her head. "I didn't mean... You know me. And no, it's not like that with Emmett. We've never really been anything. Maybe he thought that stunt tonight was the only way he could get my attention and make me feel... I don't know. He had to know I'd find out. Even if I hadn't shown up, you would've told me about it."

"Of course I would've. But if that really was his motive, Jess is right. It's pretty damn high school."

"Maybe. The truth is, though, we aren't together because of me. It's my fault."

"Why?"

No answer. Bit by bit, Rosalie matched her breaths to Jessica's, until Bella almost believed she was truly asleep.


	8. All Through the Night

_**A/N: **__thimbles has been kind enough to start pre-reading this fic for me, since I think I'm going to need help keeping everything straight and avoiding too many gaping plot holes. Thanks a bunch to her. :) She's a wonderful writer as well; if you like AH stuff, you should check out her stories. And __torisurfergirl and Lyta7 were my betas for this chapter, so thanks to both of them. I messed around with it a bit after I got it back; any mistakes are mine. And thank you, for reading. Next update should be on November 25__th__._

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**All Through the Night**

Bella's breath caught in her chest as she checked her watch. _Late again._ Tugging at her shrunken P.E. clothes, she hurried through the dimly lit locker room. Steam billowed from the empty shower area, curling around her legs like ghostly fingers. When she reached the door next to Mrs. Wells's office, it led not to the gym, but to a tiny room with a rickety ladder.

Strange.

Still, she could hear the squeak of tennis shoes against wooden floors and the hollow _thunk-thunk-thunk_ of a basketball being dribbled. Even though it was somewhat muddled by the dust and mothball scent of the room, the familiar odor of adolescent sweat and rubber wrestling mats floated in the air. She had to be close.

Up the ladder she went, disappearing into a hole in the ceiling and climbing higher than the school. At the top, she found a cavern with an Escher-like tangle of ladders, platforms, and high-wires. At this rate, she was never going to get to class. Mrs. Cope would call Charlie to report Bella's absence, and then he'd drive her to school in his police cruiser again. Worse, she'd fall behind in math and maybe never catch up.

Scrambling up one ladder after another eventually led to another door. Bella's entire body sagged in relief at the sight of Mr. Varner's bland little classroom. Over the top of his glasses, he watched her attempt at sneaking to her seat, drumming his fingers on his desk. On the chalkboard, beneath a banner that listed the first thousand digits of pi, an announcement was scratched out in his spidery handwriting: _Pop quiz today_!

Oh, perfect.

Slinking into her chair, she tried to coax her gym shorts into covering as much leg as possible—to no avail. A copy of the quiz lay face down on her desk. Maybe she still had time. As she flipped it over and read the first question, Bella's spirits dropped even further.

_1. When would you use a quango instead of the quadratic formula? _

Quango? What the hell was a quango? Had they covered that? Maybe she'd been absent that day.

Something tickled her too-bare leg: a finger, tracing a line from her ankle to her thigh. Bella smacked the hand it belonged to just before a deep, familiar chuckle clued her in to the culprit's identity: Embry.

At least, she _thought_ it was Embry. It was hard to be certain, given the way shadows fell across his face. For some reason, not being able to see him worried her less than the possibility of getting accused of cheating if they got caught talking.

"What if you are?" the maybe-Embry asked, placing a hand on her belly. "What are we going to do?"

Bella looked down, away from his shadowed face and the kind, brown eyes that hid from her. "I don't know."

"I'm... shit, Bella." His sigh gusted through her hair, the cold breath so unlike him. The Embry she knew was all heat. "I'm not ready to be a dad."

They'd had this fight before, hadn't they? Bella checked on the other students, all scribbling away at their tests. She hadn't so much as written her name on hers. No one appeared to be listening.

"You think _I'm_ ready to be a mom?" she asked.

"No." After a pause, Embry's hand smacked against his desk. "How could you let this happen?"

Staring at the dark cloud where his head should've been, Bella let her mouth fall open. "How could _I _let this happen? You were there, too, Mr. I'll Pull Out." In spite of the presence of Mr. Varner and a class full of students, she tried to scream out the words. She no longer cared if they heard. Her attempts came out as whispers; she couldn't draw enough breath to power them into shouts. "Forget it. Forget I said anything. If I am, I'll take care of it."

Slouching down in his chair, Embry rubbed his hidden chin. Bella inched away from him, like they were no longer friends. Mr. Varner was hunched over his own desk, but now and then he looked up at her. She was going to get into so much trouble. Embry wasn't even supposed to be there. He didn't go to Forks High.

"If you decide you want to have it, I'll be there," Embry said without glancing at her. "Okay?"

Before Bella could answer, her friend started to drift apart, like his whole body was made from the wisps of smoke that covered his face.

Bella jerked awake. She was back in her own bed: no classroom, no Embry. Rosalie stood over her, one cold hand touching her arm. Nearby, an ointment-scented Jessica snored. Drawing in a deep breath, Bella took a moment to re-orient herself to the present—to reality. She wasn't pregnant—never had been. It was just a scare. Embry was dead, Jessica had returned, and Bella ran with vampires and werewolves.

"Do you always talk in your sleep?" Rosalie asked.

Groaning, Bella rubbed her eyes. "Sometimes."

"Don't worry. You didn't say anything embarrassing." As she pulled her hair back into a ponytail, Rosalie gestured at Jessica with one of her elbows. "I went ahead and took care of her ointment. I thought you could use the extra sleep after sharing a bed with both of us all night."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Rosalie waved a hand. She'd helped herself to clothes from Bella's closet: loose, comfortable things that were more suited to lounging around and immersing herself in a novel than going to work. The thick flannel of the shirt turned her figure almost shapeless, hiding her curves. The sun dress of the day before was gone. "I'm ready to go whenever you are."

After Bella washed up, changed into her work attire, and woke Jessica for a quick goodbye, they headed out to Rosalie's car. A white mist hung over the town, like the shower steam from Bella's dream. Not ideal weather for the Veteran's Parade that afternoon, but maybe it would burn off as the sun climbed higher in the sky. At the last minute, Bella remembered to hang the wreath of fake purple flowers on her front door. It was Surge Memorial Day, which meant that at noon, the lab would grind to a halt and join in with the six minutes of silence that would blanket the country: one minute for every million people worldwide who were lost in that first storm.

As per usual, Rosalie sang along with the radio as she drove. Even during the happy songs, her clear, pitch-perfect voice kept a mournful tone, like she sang for something lost. Just before they reached the long, gravel driveway that led to the lab, Rosalie let out a curse and slammed her foot against the brake.

A man—a _vampire_—stood at the edge of the pasture, a knowing smirk on his face. Rosalie placed a hand over her heart, as if it could still race out of control. Behind the visitor's sunglasses, his eyes could have been red. Bella bet they were. He had _human-drinker_ written all over him.

As he approached the car, Rosalie cranked her window down and asked, "What are you doing here?"

He propped his forearms on her door, his grin widening. "It's nice to see you, too." The way he looked at Bella suggested he didn't care if she knew what he was; he didn't—couldn't—see her as a threat. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Sighing, Rosalie leaned back in her seat and gestured between them. "Bella, Demetri. Demetri, Bella. There. Happy? Again, I ask, what are you doing here?"

"Passing through on business. Chelsea's missing." Demetri sniffed, as if the mere fact of this woman going missing was somehow insulting to him. "I can't find her, so we suspect a storm is to blame. Aro is less than pleased."

Rosalie almost laughed. "I bet."

"Naturally, it's up to me to fetch Eleazar and try to dredge up some fresh talent." Demetri examined his fingernails and buffed them on his shirt. "I always get stuck with all of the hard work."

Nodding, Rosalie looked off toward the horizon and focused on something Bella couldn't see. "Has Alistair joined you?"

Alistair? Chelsea? Aro? Eleazar? So many new names for one morning. Bella could hardly hope to keep track of all of them, even if she had the slightest idea who they were.

"He was never offered a formal invitation," Demetri said.

Rosalie rubbed the spot where her pinky used to be. The action reminded Bella of watching Charlie play poker, years ago. She used to keep track of all of the twitches and habits that her father insisted weren't tells. If he cleared his throat when he placed his bet, he was bluffing. If he scratched his chin, his cards were particularly good.

What were Rose's cards like? Good or bad?

"But you know where he is?" Rosalie asked.

Even when he shrugged, Demetri managed to look elegant. "Certainly," he said, his lips pressing together as he watched Bella. She got the feeling he was searching for something—something within her? Whatever it was, he didn't seem able to find it.

"We haven't heard from him in a long time," Rosalie said. "Jasper and Emmett tried to find him, but... you know them. Tracking people down has never been their forte. Alistair could really help with our work."

"Do you think so?" Offering her another shrug, Demetri stepped away from the car. "If he wanted to be found, he would be. He knows where you are."

With a nod that looked like it should've been accompanied by a wink, he left them. Muttering to herself, Rosalie started toward the lab again. Bella couldn't help but think back over Rosalie's fight with Emmett, remembering how he'd claimed Rosalie was holding onto something she didn't even want. Was that something this person she couldn't find? This Alistair?

"Who's Alistair?" Bella asked.

"An old... well, not a friend, exactly."

Another rub of the blank knuckle where a finger should have been—another tell Bella couldn't interpret. Perhaps Rosalie and Alistair had fought, and he'd taken part of her hand as a trophy.

"Boyfriend?" Bella asked.

Rosalie's laugh filled the car. "Absolutely not. Never. Not even if I was desperate. We used to work together. That's all."

That wasn't all, but for the moment, Bella decided to leave it alone. Inside the lab, they found only Garrett, Jasper, and Edward. Carlisle, Mary, and Emmett were gone for the day.

It was just as well. Bella didn't want to get caught in the storm that was sure to rage between Rosalie and Emmett the next time they met. Clipboard in hand, she started on her readings. No time for cooking; Rosalie had let her sleep far too long.

"Hey," Edward said with a half-grin that fought to burst through the clouds of the night before. "No couples therapy today?"

She shook her head. For reasons she didn't want to examine too closely, she didn't feel like spending the morning flirting and joking with him after the evening she'd had. Something too close to guilt churned in her stomach at the thought of it. "Sorry. I'm running late."

"Well, as long as you weren't off cooking with someone else, I suppose it's okay." From a drawer at what had once been Jessica's work station, he produced two cupcakes, each topped with a thick swirl of icing and shavings of chocolate. "As promised, one belated birthday cupcake. And one for Jessica, too, because I know she'd never forgive me if I left her out."

Bella beamed at him. Her fingers brushed his as she accepted the cupcakes. Without meaning to, she prolonged the touch for a few beats longer than necessary. Not that he seemed to mind; it only strengthened his bright grin.

"Thanks," she said.

"As fascinating as it is, watching your foreplay," Rosalie said, her all-business face already in place, "we have work to do. Edward, where did you put my calibration kit?"

"I didn't touch it."

In what looked like her best impersonation of Jessica, Rosalie placed her hands on her hips. "_Someone_ did. I left it right here."

"You sure about that?" Edward asked. "Maybe you set it down after—"

"Yes, I'm sure. I didn't forget."

"Sorry. Haven't seen it. Probably just as well, though. The last time you tried to calibrate the Canary, you..." His voice trailed off, a gulp punctuating his unfinished sentence as Rosalie's eyes narrowed. "I mean, uh. You did an excellent job and I have no criticism whatsoever, even if you_ did_ leave it sounding like a washing machine full of gravel. I'm sure it runs better that way." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a cellophane-wrapped packet of something that looked to be mostly crumbs and held it out to her. "Cookie?"

A laugh escaped from Rosalie, stopped only by her hand clapping over her mouth. Edward had never looked more triumphant.

While Edward helped a softened Rosalie search for the misplaced kit, Bella went back to her readings. The weather screen revealed the sun shining its way through the morning fog and burning the sky blue. There was no sign of a storm, no flashes of orange. It was going to be a calm day, she hoped.

A few minutes before the clock struck twelve, everyone pitched in to shut down all of the machines. Only the alarms stayed on, for the sake of safety. Garrett announced the beginning of the six minutes of silence from his favorite spot on the scaffolding overhead. Closing her eyes, Rosalie bowed her head as if in prayer. At one point, Jasper placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. The lab's machines held their breath, caught in something that felt quieter and deeper than silence.

At the start of the fifth minute, the ground shifted beneath Bella's feet. An alarm wailed: the high-pitched, heart-dropping one that meant the warning sirens above ground were going off. Edward lurched forward, stopped from bashing his head on Bella's desk thanks only to Jasper's quick reflexes. The blank weather screen, shut down like the rest of the lab, offered no explanation.

"Oh, God," Bella said. "Jess is alone. She can't board up windows or—"

"Go," Rosalie said, handing over her keys and shoving Edward and Bella toward the emergency exit. "We'll be right behind you."

Trailed by a pale Edward, Bella ran up the stairs to the garage. Her breaths came easier once they were above ground, but she knew the tightness in her chest wouldn't dissipate until the storm was over and everyone she loved was as safe as they could be.

Bella drove. To Edward's credit, he didn't even try to object. As they pulled out of the garage, the sky looked like it was on fire. The sun was nothing more than a white dot in a vast, unforgiving field of cracked orange. As long as it still shone, Rosalie and the others would be trapped.

"Keep an eye out for time travelers," Bella said.

She drove as fast as she dared. Each echo of the siren pushed her to speed up—to risk losing control. Edward said nothing; he just clenched his fists and watched the side of the road.

Finally, they reached the trailer park. Bella unbuckled her seatbelt and started to leap out of the car, but Edward didn't move—or, he _did_ move, but not in the way she expected. He trembled, clutching his stomach. Sweat ran down his face and dampened his shirt.

"Edward?"

"I'm fine," he whispered, his voice hoarse. A violent spasm tore through his body. "I'm fine."

Bella wondered if he was telling her or himself. Leaning across the seat, feeling as if she teetered on the edge of a cliff, she stole a glimpse of the skin beneath his collar. Silently, she begged her suspicions to be wrong—prayed for him to have the flu or an anxiety disorder. Anything but a time traveler.

No such luck. There, on his chest, she found a faint, pink-ringed spot that hadn't been present the other day.

"Oh, no," she said, almost thankful when the burning behind her eyes blurred her vision with sympathetic tears and hid the lesion from her.

A shout rang out near the edge of the woods. Bella blinked until she could see again. Even the Raiders were running for shelter; they barreled out of the forest in a huge group. Without pausing to think, she hauled herself into Edward's lap and laced her fingers through his hair to hold him still. She bent her face close to his, until her long hair veiled both of them and made it look like they were kissing.

"Bella? What are you—"

"Shh. Raiders. I saw this in a movie."

Swallowing, he held her by the hips, hard. The Raiders cat-called as they passed by the car, telling them to get a room and asking if they heard the sirens.

"Hey, at least they'll die happy," one of them said with a laugh.

Bella waited until their voices faded into the distance before she said, "Okay. They're gone."

"You sure?" Edward asked, tightening his grip on her.

Had she not been so desperate to reach Jessica, Bella would've laughed.

To her relief, Edward could still walk on his own. He dodged her attempts to help him. They found Jessica collapsed in the kitchen, curled up in a ball. When Bella rushed to her and smoothed the sweaty hair back from her forehead, Jessica didn't react beyond a letting out a soft whimper and clutching at Bella's wrist.

Bella's mind threatened to shut down. How was she going to get Jessica to her room, board up the windows, _and_ take care of Edward?

"I can carry her," Edward said.

Bella tried to keep the disbelief out of her voice. "Are you sure?"

Even though his face had gone gray, he managed to look insulted. "She's tiny. I can manage."

While he scooped Jessica into his arms, Bella hovered around them. She didn't think she could catch Jessica if Edward dropped her, but she could at least help to slow her fall. Because Bella's room was closest, she directed Edward to take her there. He set her on top of the quilt and staggered back, breathing hard. Bella's dresser found a new home as a chair when his legs wobbled and threatened to give out.

"Why don't you lie down, too?" Bella asked. "There's plenty of—"

"I'm fine."

Not willing to argue with him, Bella dug through her sock drawer for one of Jake's blood samples. Carlisle had told her to use it during a bad storm, rather than resorting to one of his experimental treatments. She prepared a syringe and injected the blood into Jessica's arm, all under Edward's curious gaze.

"What blood type are you?" she asked. If it would help, she'd give him some of Jake's blood as well. How she would explain said blood, she didn't yet know.

"O positive," Edward said.

"Damn."

Jake and Jessica were both A negative. The only wolf with type O blood was Paul, and her chances of getting a sample from _him_ were as good as her chances of convincing the Raiders to stop killing people and play nice.

As the blood worked its magic, Jessica blinked, her sobs fading into jagged sighs. "Edward?" she said, as if just realizing he was there. "Aw, crap. You too?"

"Apparently." A hollow laugh sliced through the constant scream of the siren, book-ended by flashes of orange light. "It's kind of a new thing for me."

Murmuring her understanding, Jessica hugged her knees to her chest. "The first time is the worst. It won't hurt after this." She winced. "Not for a while, at least."

Edward tried to give her a smile. "Where are the boards?" he asked Bella. "I'll take care of the windows while you take care of her."

Bella didn't think he could manage to swing a hammer in his current state, but she didn't say so. Instead, she directed him to the boards under the bed and grabbed her toolbox out of the hall closet. After watching him struggle for a few seconds, she insisted on holding the boards for him while he hammered the nails.

Just before the final board went up, she noticed Rosalie and Garrett hopping out of the latter's car. Without the tinted windows protecting them, their bodies glimmered in the sunlight that blared through the storm. Jake and the other wolves had described the sight to her before, but Bella had never witnessed it with her own eyes.

They were beautiful.

To prevent Edward from catching their secret sparkling off of their skin, Bella slammed the board over the window. Too fast, Rosalie and Garrett burst into the bedroom. They had to have used their natural speed to get there; no human could have closed the distance so quickly. Bella almost panicked, remembering the dot of blood produced when she injected Jessica, but neither vampire seemed tempted. The only indication that they noticed was a slight darkening of Garrett's eyes. Rosalie's remained as light and clear as Carlisle's had been.

Gasping, Jessica tugged on the hem of Bella's shirt and tried to hide beneath her pillow. "I don't want him to see me," she whispered.

Garrett gave a tight nod, but avoided meeting Bella's gaze. "I'll go take care of the other windows," he said, disappearing almost as quickly as he'd arrived.

Rosalie stopped short, her arms shooting out to steady Edward when he stumbled. As she took in the changes in his appearance, Bella grew certain that vampires could cry—that Rosalie _would_ cry.

"Ointment?" Rosalie asked as she ushered Edward toward the foot of the bed. He didn't resist; all of the fight drained out of him as the storm raged on.

"In the bathroom," Bella said. "Top shelf of the medicine cabinet."

Situating herself between the two time travelers, Bella wrapped an arm around Jessica and took Edward's hand.

_Two_ time travelers. Where was he from? _When_ was he from? Now didn't seem like the time to ask. He squeezed her hand tight, like his fingers were determined to accept her solace and his pride had no say in the matter.

Rosalie returned with ointment and a bucket in hand. She pulled Edward's shirt up without asking his permission and dabbed some of the noxious smelling goo on the two marks that had appeared. When he motioned for the bucket, she held it up for him and rubbed his back while he vomited, though she wrinkled her nose as if she didn't quite know what to do with him.

Jessica didn't need a bucket of her own; it was only the first storm after the onset of Margaret Brown's that caused such a reaction. After this, Edward would be able to get through storms like an ordinary person until he was so far gone that he started to feel the energy in his bones like an ache—like Jessica did.

"We'll get some pills in you when you can keep them down," Rosalie said. "Ugh. Which I certainly hope will be soon."

"I have some," Edward managed to say in between heaving breaths. "I've... I've been on a half-dose for a few years. Charlotte's idea. She and Carlisle thought it'd prevent the onset of... _this_."

Charlotte. Bella had heard that name once before. The woman—the vampire, she assumed—who had made Edward her apprentice and taught him his trade.

Orange bursts whipped through the cracks in the boards. Jessica cried out. Edward crumpled over the bucket. As the storm loomed over the trailer, Jessica became less and less like herself, and more like a wild animal in pain.

It had never been like this. The most Jessica had felt during the last storm was a minor twinge. It hadn't even been enough for her to admit she felt the pain, much less react this way.

"Rose," Bella whispered, ready to ask her, even with Edward there—ready to beg her to change Jessica before it was too late. It couldn't get worse than this. She couldn't take it.

"Shh," Rosalie said. "It'll be okay. It's almost over, I promise. Carlisle will be back soon. He'll come here and look at both of them. It'll be okay."

Edward's free hand closed over Jessica's ankle—whether in an attempt to seek comfort or to offer it, Bella couldn't tell until he said, "Hey. I made you a cupcake." His words slowed, dragged down by exhaustion. "I'd give it to you now, but Bella left it at the lab."

"Oh, sure," Bella said. "Blame me."

His forced smile faded into deep breaths. Jessica kept holding her legs as if she thought she could squeeze the pain out of herself. Remembering how it used to make her feel safe when Charlie would rock her through the storms and tell her stories about her mother, Bella started reciting every good story about home that popped into her mind: Angela and Mike, long days at First Beach, Isaac and Joshua, Jake and the boys, Crazy Eights with Seth, Jessica's parents, slumber parties, putting tree frogs down Lauren Mallory's shirt.

"Don't go," Jessica said, sobbing as Bella shifted on the bed.

"Never." Lost for words and stories, Bella resorted to repeating Rosalie's promise. "It'll be okay. It's almost over. It'll be okay."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Quango, in case you didn't know/were wondering, is an acronym for "quasi-autonomous non-governmental organisation." It's used mostly in the UK and Ireland, and has absolutely nothing to do with the quadratic formula._


	9. All the King's Horses

_**A/N: **__Thanks to thimbles, itsange, and BelleDujour: pre-reader and betas for this chapter, respectively. And thank you for reading. :) Next update should be December 9__th__._

* * *

**All the King's Horses**

A siren tore Bella from sleep, dissolving half-remembered dreams. She shot up, bracing for the worst, but it was just an ambulance. That was good; if ambulances were being sent out, the storm had to be over.

Not so good for whoever needed the ambulance, though. Bella crossed her fingers for them: her version of a prayer.

When had she dozed off? Jessica was still snoozing away, hidden beneath the quilt, but Edward and Rosalie were nowhere to be seen. After shrugging into new clothes and wrapping a spare blanket around herself, Bella shuffled to the kitchen.

With the windows still boarded up, she couldn't see how much damage the storm had done. Upon opening the front door, she discovered a world shrouded in smoke. It was the yellow, antiseptic-smelling smoke that sometimes infiltrated the lab. Coiling over the withered grass and fallen trees, it looked like the atmosphere of an alien planet.

Nothing was on fire as far as Bella could tell. It was as though the town had sat out in the sun too long—like some cruel child had grown bored of playing with it and had left it on the hot pavement to shrivel like a raisin.

With the exception of the trees that had been painted orange and red by autumn, everything would be green again within a week. As soon as the air cleared, new life would sprout up all over. While people struggled to patch their homes back together, the plants would flourish. Unless, of course, the snow decided to arrive early. Patches of frost threatened the coming of winter, softening the edges of the gravel road. Before much longer, everything would be covered in white, like the last breath of summer had been burned away by the storm.

Even so, Bella wasn't sure the grass and weeds didn't keep up their obnoxious cycle of renewal beneath the blanket of cold. Shivering, she wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. One arm ventured out of her shelter, raising in greeting to a neighbor who trundled past with a wheelbarrow full of fallen branches. All over the trailer park, people picked their way around broken glass and bent aluminum siding, fixing what they could, scavenging what could be used for some new purpose, and filling the dumpster with the rest. Thanks to the combined efforts of the smoke and the puffy white clouds overhead, the sun was blotted out, allowing Rosalie and Garrett to help with the clean-up efforts. Jasper, Mary, and Carlisle were there, too.

With her fingers pressed to her forehead, Rosalie paused to survey the damage. She didn't shrug away from Carlisle when he touched her shoulder as Bella expected her to. Instead, Rosalie leaned closer to him and placed her fingers on top of his.

Still no Edward. Trading her blanket for a knobbly old cardigan, Bella searched through her cupboard for roasted dandelion root, a jar of Emmett's honey, and the emergency jug of distilled water: everything she needed for a big pot of dandelion coffee. Soon, she would join everyone outside to clear away the debris, but first she'd help them refuel. To her relief, the stove obeyed her and heated up with the twist of a dial. Miracle of miracles, they had power. Maybe the milk would even still be good.

As she set a saucepan full of water on top of an orange-hot ring, the bathroom door swung open. Edward stepped out. At the sight of her, his posture stiffened.

Bella wanted to let loose any number of platitudes, but she didn't think he'd appreciate any of them. Neither would she, come to think of it.

"Good morning," she said instead.

She let him be after he returned her greeting. Silence settled in for a long visit, leaving only when the water began to bubble and Edward cleared his throat.

"1901," he said.

Bella frowned. "What?"

"The year I was born. It was 1901." His long fingers ruffled through his hair. An instant later, he began helping her without asking, scooping some of the ground dandelion root into the pan.

1901. If he'd lived his time straight through... Well, she never would have met him. The 114th anniversary of his birth had passed by in June. With her mind spinning, Bella turned the burner off and left the dark brown concoction to steep.

"How old were you when it happened?" she asked.

"Nine." Sighing, he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

What must the Masens have gone through when their son went out to play one day in 1910 and never came back? A pang of sympathy ricocheted through Bella's chest for those long-gone strangers. Not knowing what had become of a loved one was its own kind of torture.

"I arrived in the middle of the riots in 1996," Edward said, his words coming faster and easier, like they'd built up within him over the years and were ready to explode. "I got by with luck... a lot of luck. That foster mother I told you about found me near her house and worked out what I was. She took me in and taught me how to act like a modern kid." He gave her the hint of a smile. "And how to cook, as you already know."

No wonder he worked for their organization. No wonder he'd cut down the woman in La Grande. If not for the kindness of his substitute mother, he could've ended up swinging in a noose of his own. Blinking away thoughts of that alternate past like she would banish tears, Bella traced the frayed rope on his forearm, as if to confirm that he was real. Edward leaned closer for a second, then stepped back, staring at the floor. His lips pressed together.

Bella bit the inside of her cheek. "And you didn't have any symptoms before yesterday?" she asked.

"No, never." A breathy, sharp sound that might have passed for a laugh spilled from his mouth. "I was drafted when I was twenty-one. Can't exactly hide that sort of thing in the Army. To be honest, I'd sort of started to doubt I'd get sick at all."

Eighteen years since the Surge reached back and snatched him away. No, nineteen, now, since Surge Memorial Day had just passed. Either way, it was a long time to go without developing Margaret Brown's, considering some people got lesions within minutes of time travel.

He'd gotten by with lot of luck, indeed.

"Do you need any help with the ointment?" she asked.

Had Jessica been awake, she would've had several comments to make about _that_. Most of them probably would've centered around the possibility of getting Garrett in there and convincing him to parade around topless as well. And then words like "Jell-O" and "mud" and "wrestling" would've entered into the conversation.

It was just as well that she was still asleep.

"No, thanks," Edward said. "Already put some on before you woke up. It's only a couple of marks on my chest. I can manage."

"Oh. If it made you sleepy, Jessica's bed is—"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "I'm fine."

The words were softer than they had been the day before, but they still held that stubborn edge, like he thought if he put enough force behind them, he could hammer them like one of his machines—repair them until they were true. His eyelids drooped a little, but Bella thought he was probably right. The dose of ointment he'd need wasn't high enough to knock him out. Not yet. That he'd managed to drift off the night before was a blessing.

"What was that stuff you used on Jessica yesterday?" he asked. "Blood?"

"Yeah. Healthy blood. A friend of ours has antibodies that fight MBS."

Did it sound as unbelievable to him as it did to her? She hoped not. Mentioning werewolf blood would only lead to complications.

"Carlisle is working with it, trying to incorporate it into treatments," she said. "I might be able to find some that's your type, but I'm not sure. I'll do my best."

While they waited for the dandelion coffee to be ready, Edward helped Bella start pulling boards down from the windows. Bit by bit, the outside world was revealed to them, like they'd been living in a cave far from the wonders and horrors of civilization. Eventually, Jessica traipsed out of the bedroom: still in her pajamas, hugging a tattered robe close around her body.

"Morning," Bella said. "Give me a few more minutes, and I'll do your ointment."

Jessica screwed her face up into a grimace. "Take your time. I'm not ready to go back to sleep."

As soon as Edward dropped the board in his hands, Jessica hobbled across the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. He didn't seem to mind sympathy from this source. Rather, he returned the hug, patted her unruly curls, and whispered something in her ear.

Perhaps it was because they were in the same fight, battling together against time.

One by one, the vampires trickled in. Only Jasper remained outside—much to Bella's relief. Carlisle took Edward back to Bella's room to check up on him while Mary and Rosalie occupied themselves with the remaining boarded up windows, but Garrett stood near the door, hanging back like he was waiting for Jessica to come to him—which she did, dragging her feet.

"Sorry I kicked you out," she said, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

A smile flirted with Garrett's mouth: more wistful than warm. Holding Jessica's face between his hands, he bent at the waist and touched his lips to hers: fleeting, tender kisses that made something flutter in Bella's stomach just from watching them.

"That's new," Bella said to Rosalie. When this was met with no reply, she added, "Isn't it?"

Rosalie picked up a spoon and stirred the dandelion coffee, as if she had the slightest clue what she was doing. "I'm not sure."

When Edward and Carlisle returned, Bella touched the latter's arm and nodded toward the front door. He followed her out of the trailer, all the way to the edge of the dried-up forest. The cold bit Bella's skin through her cardigan and swirled her breath into fog. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she gazed into the darkest part of the forest and wondered how the wolves were doing.

"I need you to be completely honest with me," she whispered. "Don't try to spare my feelings or soften the blow."

Carlisle nodded. "I'll do my best."

"How much longer does she have? Realistically?"

A crease formed between his eyebrows. He looked at the ground, at the trees—anywhere but her. "It's hard to say, exactly." With his fingers laced together, he sat down on a stump. "If I had to say, I'd estimate six months."

Half a year. Bella wrapped her arms around herself to keep from splintering and falling apart.

"That's assuming we make no progress," Carlisle said, extending a hand to her. "There's always hope."

"Do you think so?"

He smiled that gentle smile that looked so out of place on a vampire. "I do."

After thanking him, Bella hurried back inside. Reheating the dandelion coffee and straining it into mugs kept her mind busy—prevented it from drifting to places she didn't want to go. By the time she drained the pan, every mug she owned was full. One went to Jessica, who avoided her questioning look. Another she gave to Edward. The rest she took outside in batches to the neighbors who had spent their mornings toiling away in the cold. Her plan to make breakfast sandwiches for everyone was ruined when she got back inside and discovered only two eggs in the noisy fridge.

In another way, it was perfect. It gave her an excuse.

The beast of a truck that lived in the carport didn't let her down; it clunked to life and carried her to the old barn on the edge of town. She took the steps to Rosalie's apartment two at a time, her lungs burning with each shallow breath. Flinging open the freezer, she began piling hard blocks of frozen food into a cooler.

"Need any help?"

Bella screamed. Her hand was already in her bag, closing around her gun, before she realized the question came from Emmett. He stood at the top of the stairs, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples.

"God," she said, wiping a hand over her face. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry." His grin said otherwise. "I've been cleaning up around here. Everything okay?"

"Mostly," she said with a nod of thanks when he bent to help her pack the cooler without question. "We're all in one piece, at least, but Jess is getting worse. And now Edward is sick, too."

"Edward? He's a time traveler?"

Carlisle hadn't told him? Bella had assumed that as the resident humans, only she and Jessica had been out of the loop. Then again, the times she'd seen Emmett and Carlisle engaged in conversation were about as numerous as the times she'd seen Rosalie take a break at work.

"Apparently," Bella said. "He had his first outbreak last night."

Emmett's hand rested over hers, even colder than usual from digging through the freezer. "I'm sorry."

She nodded. Seeing his big hand eclipse hers, she remembered that same hand resting on a human woman's back. She remembered the way that hand made Rosalie's smile shatter. That was all it took for the bitter taste of anger to once again scratch at the back of her throat.

"Hey," he said, catching her arm as she slammed the lid of the cooler and started filling her bag with eggs, bacon, and bread. "Are you mad at me?"

"I don't know." There was enough indecision swirling in her head to make it not a total lie, just most of one.

"Okay." Looking every bit like the big brother she'd never asked for, he tugged on a lock of her hair. "I probably deserve it. Just... bear in mind, you don't know the whole story."

"So tell me, then." It was more of a plea than a demand: a child's voice, begging for the truth. "What's your whole story?"

Emmett winked. "You first." He gave her one of his too-tight hugs and kissed her forehead like he had that night in the alley—the night he'd seemed so happy she was alive. "I'm going to get back to work. See you later."

"See you."

Once he disappeared, so did she, lugging the heavy cooler past her truck, across the pasture, and into the forest. Diving into the charred trees and dead vines brought a strange, fresh scent, as if the woods thought they were still green.

She wasn't due to meet Jake for a few more days yet, but she couldn't wait that long. Enveloped by the ruined forest, she raised her voice in song: one of the folk songs they'd agreed she and Jessica would sing whenever one of them needed to find him on an unscheduled day.

"Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a young maid sing in the valley down below. Oh, don't deceive me. Oh, never leave me. How could you use a poor maiden so?"

Sure enough, when she reached their meeting place, he jogged up in human form, wearing cut-offs and no shirt. Where his feet touched the ground, frost melted into dew.

"I still think we should add 'How Much is that Doggy in the Window?' to the rotation," she said.

"No way," he said, accepting the cooler. "Way too obvious. And hey, thanks."

"No problem. Everyone all right?"

"Yeah. We made it through. You?"

The breath she'd held upon asking the question whooshed out in a sigh with his answer. "All still alive, for now," she said.

She didn't need to tell him that Jessica was doing worse. They'd come so far together, she knew he could read it on her face. As expected, he offered up a hug, followed by his arm. She accepted both, fishing a syringe out of the front pocket of her bag.

"I need to ask you for a favor," she said as the needle pierced his skin.

"Yeah? Shoot."

"Paul's blood. Can you get some for me? A friend of mine needs it."

He grinned. "Making Paul bleed sounds like my idea of fun, not a favor."

"I'll give you a few vials," she said with a fond smile and a roll of her eyes. "Use a needle, not your fist."

"Aw, you're no fun." Pausing, he cocked his head as if listening to something too faint for her ears. "I could always just bring him along next time."

Not after the argument Paul had to have seen in Jake's head. No way. Bella cringed.

"That's okay," she said. "I—"

"Bells, seriously. Knock it off. I told you before, it's not like they think you wanted... I mean, it's never been easy since then, but..." He broke off with a shake of his head, dismissing the words before they could take shape. When he spoke again, his voice was softer: an echo of the little boy who used to chase her around Charlie's yard. "The only one who ever blamed you was _you_. What Paul hates is the fact that you're still working with the leeches."

She breathed out a laugh, but there was no power behind it, like she was back in that dream with Embry and couldn't make her voice heard. "Yeah, because Paul and I were_ so_ close before."

"Pft. Details."

The rest of their routine ticked by in silence while memories of long-ago fights screamed through her head. More than once, she and Embry had argued over her decision to work with Tanya and Irina.

It wasn't until Bella started packing up that Jake spoke again.

"Hey, did you know they have powers?" he asked.

"Did I know who had what now?"

"The bloodsuckers. Quil saw one of the new ones in the forest the other day, and it did something to him—made him so calm, he almost fell asleep."

Jasper. Avoiding Jake's gaze, Bella adjusted the shoulder strap on her bag.

"You _did_ know," he said with a scoff. "Well, thanks for telling me."

"Sorry. I only found out recently, myself."

"Hmm. All right." Drumming his fingers against his knees, he stared at the fractured branches overhead. "It was so weird. Wonder what else they can do. Did you know that one Quil saw—"

"Jasper."

"Whatever. You know he and the new female are eating humans, right?"

She did, but decided it was better to avoid saying as much.

"Why haven't you done anything then?" she asked.

"They only eat Raiders. I figured it was the lesser of two evils."

Surprise rocked through her at his admission, but perhaps it shouldn't have. Jake had ached to kill the Raiders himself ever since the group in Forks had found out about the wolves.

"Have they offered yet?" he asked.

Bella laughed. "You really have to start giving me some context, here. Have they offered what?"

His eyebrows lifted. "Have they offered to change Jess into one of them?"

"No." The answer came too quick, with too much force behind it. It left her feeling transparent, as if all of her thoughts were on display.

Jake always could see through her.

"But you're thinking of bringing it up, aren't you?" he asked.

"What the hell else am I supposed to do?" Holding her breath, she paced away from him. Space, Embry had always told her, was important when the wolves got agitated. Never get too close during an argument—not even with Jake. "I can't just let her die."

"But you _can_ let her become a murderer?"

She _was _back in that dream. She had to be. Everything in her wanted to shout, and all she could do was whisper. The Raiders were probably nearby, combing the forest for time travelers. As always, they were a gag shutting her mouth, a rope binding her wrists.

"I know, okay?" she said. "I know what it'll mean for her. I decided a long time ago that I'd only consider it as an absolute last resort."

"You shouldn't consider it at all." A tree bore the brunt of his frustration, its branches shivering when his hand connected with its trunk. "Do you really want to be responsible for her killing someone else's Jessica?"

_Hypocrite_, her mind shrieked. Without giving herself time to think about it, she let her mouth form the words, "The Raiders are someone else's Jessica."

He carried on as if he hadn't heard her, but the tremor that shot through his body made her retreat further. "What'll happen to you, huh? The bloodsuckers have to either kill or change any human who finds out about them. Tanya told m—"

"God, Jake, _I know_." Angry tears burned their way through her defenses, cracking her voice. "You think I want this? I'm sorry. I'm doing everything I fucking can to keep her human and make her better, but _it's not working_."

"Well, I haven't been giving her my blood all this time just so you can turn her into my enemy." Something like triumph squared his shoulders, even as his scowl softened. He'd always hated seeing her cry. "Speaking of which, have you thought about that? She's had a _lot _of my blood over the past couple of years. What if it changed her in some way? My blood doesn't mix well with venom."

"It's not like she heals on her own." Dashing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand, Bella took a few deep breaths. "Wouldn't they be able to smell it if she was different, somehow?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

A glance at her watch provided her with an escape route from the woods—from this conversation. "I should get back before they start worrying," she said. "See you later."

"Yeah. Later."

Jake waited until she turned around before he sprinted to catch up and pulled her into a quick hug. "You'll find a cure," he said: a peace offering and a promise. "All right? I know you will."

At least one of them thought so.

Bella kissed his cheek, ran back to her truck, and drove toward home, willing her face to stop showing the blotchy evidence of recent tears. Thankfully, no one back at the trailer park stared or asked questions. Rosalie and Garrett didn't so much as glance up from their conversation when Bella hopped out of her truck.

"And while we're on the subject, what was that, earlier?" Rosalie asked. Her hands fluttered between jobs as if they didn't know what to do with themselves outside the lab. "Are you trying to break your own heart?"

"No," Garrett said. "Are _you_?" When Rosalie's only response was a glare, he added, "That was me trying to change her mind."

Bella paused, teetering on the edge of asking what he meant, then decided to temporarily channel Scarlett O'Hara. She would think about everything later. With too many worries still clamoring for attention, she went inside and immersed herself in a modified version of her daily therapy. The sizzle of bacon and the clunk of toast popping up again and again banished unwanted thoughts. The appearance of Edward, rosy-cheeked from cold, only added to the effect. With him there, helping out and standing close, her cramped, dingy kitchen felt more like Rosalie's.

Each sandwich received only a sliver of bacon, though she wanted to add more. She couldn't let on that she had extra food. After carrying the first batch out to the neighbors, she returned to find Jessica sitting on the counter and buttering toast while Edward took care of the bacon and eggs. As soon as Jessica looked up, she frowned and touched Bella's cheek in a silent question.

Bella shook her head. Even if she could have rehashed the reason for her tears with Edward listening in, she wouldn't have wanted to.

"Tsk," Bella said, nudging Edward over with a bump of her hip against his. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and already you're cooking with someone else."

"Can you blame him?" Jessica asked, waving a hand at her pajama-clad body and messy hair. "I mean, how could he resist _this_?"

"Mhm. Floozies, the both of you."

While Bella prodded at the bacon with a fork, a smiling Edward slipped an arm around her waist. She let it sit there, warm and solid and comforting.

"So," Bella said. "Since when do you and Garrett kiss?"

"I don't know what you heard," Edward said, his breath tickling her neck, "but he's not my type."

Bella swatted his hand as he tried to steal some bacon, but she gave in when he pouted. "Sure he's not. I've seen you watch him climb the scaffolding. But I was actually asking Jess this time."

"Since, um, today, I guess," Jessica said with a smirk.

"Hmm." Bella gave the bacon another poke. The grease popped and splattered, attacking her arm while she pondered her next words. "Any idea what he could be trying to change your mind about?"

"Anal," Jessica said without missing a beat.

Edward didn't quite manage to smother his surprised cough of laughter. Through her own amusement, Bella announced that it was well past time for Jessica's ointment. Leaving Edward in charge of the cooking, she led Jessica to the bathroom.

"Seriously, Jess," Bella whispered once they were alone.

"Seriously, I don't know what you mean. Garrett hasn't tried to change my mind about anything."

With her chin raised, Jessica shrugged out of her pajamas and perched on the shower stool. Bella decided to let it go. Later, she would ask Garrett.

"Wait," Jessica said as Bella dabbed the first blob of ointment onto her back. "You went to the lab, right?"

"Yeah."

This was apparently the wrong answer. Jessica put her hands on her hips and said, "_Well_?"

"Well, what?"

"Oh, my God." Jessica threw her hands in the air. "It's like you don't know me at all. I know there was a storm last night, but even when disaster strikes, we have to remember our priorities."

"What are you talking about?"

"Woman, where is my cupcake?"


	10. Over the Mountains and Over the Waves

_**A/N: **__Early post, since I forgot I'll be out of town this weekend. Thank you to thimbles, StoryPainter, and GetDrunkOnVictory: pre-reader and betas for this chapter, respectively. And thank you for reading. :) I'm afraid the next update is going to take 3 weeks instead of the usual 2 – busy time of year and all. The next chapter should be posted on December 30__th__._

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**Over the Mountains and Over the Waves**

Bracing her hands on her hips, Bella surveyed the trailer park. Every storm brought at least one confused soul forward from the past, but all of the faces she saw were familiar. No new time travelers stared back at her.

Over the course of the day much of the debris had been cleared. Even Jessica insisted on helping out as much as she could, banding together with a few of the younger neighborhood kids to paint a new sign for the entrance of the park. Giggling, Jessica leaned over and let one of the little boys paint a dot of blue on the end of her nose before doing the same to him.

Like Bella, Garrett watched the scene from a distance, smiling to himself. Since he was standing on his own, Bella decided to approach him. The _crunch crunch crunch_ of gravel under her feet didn't make him turn his attention to her, nor did the question that forced its way out.

"What has you wanting to change Jessica's mind?" she asked.

Instead of answering right away, he picked up a jagged piece of siding and threw it into a dumpster. The bending of the metal made a noise like stage thunder.

"Heard that, did you?" Finally looking at her, he swiped the back of his hand across his dry forehead. "Did you ask her about it?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Feigned ignorance."

"Hmm." Removing the gloves he didn't need, he placed a hand on her shoulder. The weight and temperature of it sent a chill through her: the polar opposite of his sad, gentle smile. "If you're going to ask one of us, I'm not your guy."

He left it at that, and she let him. What she wanted to do was throw more questions out until he answered one. Did he offer to change Jessica, and she turned him down? Or was it the other way around? Did she ask to be changed, and now he was trying to convince her to remain human? The kisses seemed to point to the former conclusion. Not to mention that Jessica grew up surrounded by wolves whose opinions about vampires were as unchanging as the vampires themselves.

Perhaps it was something simpler, less terrifying. Those kisses could've been Garrett's attempt to change her mind about being with him. In an effort to spare his heart, she could've said no. But why would Jessica keep that a secret?

An ache stretched across Bella's shoulders as she dived back into work. Bending to pick up some of Mrs. Ryan's broken garden gnomes made her lower back protest. The longest, busiest shift at the bar was preferable to this.

Though she still couldn't see it through the clouds and lingering wisps of smoke, the sun began to set. A few feet away, Edward stopped, rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. Shoulders sagging, he let his head droop. To Bella, he looked like he'd been beaten before the battle had really begun. He'd been working so hard. After the night he had, what he needed was rest or, at the very least, a distraction.

Making eye contact with Rosalie, Bella nodded toward Jessica in a silent request. _Look after her_. If she voiced it aloud, it'd only annoy Jessica and bring on claims of being able to take care of herself. Rosalie nodded. _Message received_. With that, Bella went to Edward and touched one of those defeated shoulders.

"I think it's time to quit for the day," she said. "It's getting dark."

"There's still a few—"

"I know, but I _really_ need a break from all of this. Come on." Squeezing his arm, she smiled. "Keep me company?"

He gave in. After fetching her bag from the hook by her front door, Bella took his hand and set her feet on auto-pilot. Once they reached the paved road that would lead them into town, a few unbroken street lights flickered to life. Their glows warred with each other and the headlights of the few cars that rattled past, casting long shadows in different directions—as if Bella and Edward's twins walked a few steps behind them. The cold that had temporarily melted during the afternoon seeped back in, curling around them and quickening their steps.

He didn't ask where they were going—didn't say anything at all. His pace matched hers, never flagging or pausing for breath. In the descending darkness, without the violent flash of the storm making him bend, he seemed healthy: a pre-Surge man out for a walk with a friend. Normal.

Bella looked up at the gray ceiling of clouds—at the stars she couldn't see. For a moment, there was only the silence, the approaching night, and the gloved hand clasped in hers. It was crazy, but in that second, she thought they could run. They could pump their joined arms and pound their feet against the cracked asphalt until they found somewhere new—somewhere untouched by orange lights and red scars.

It was only a fleeting daydream, but it made the icy weight of guilt drop into her stomach. Jessica hadn't featured in her imaginary flight plan, except as one of the problems to leave behind. How could she think of her as a burden, even for an instant?

Edward squeezed her fingers tighter, like he knew. Without releasing him, she reached into her bag with her free hand. Ten or eleven key chains with souvenirs from her old life jangled together as she unlocked the bar: a smiley face with chipped paint from Charlie, Renee's wedding ring, a tattered leather flower from Embry, one half of a "best friends forever" heart from a nine-year-old Jessica.

Flipping on the overhead lights inside the bar made Bella groan. One of the windows was broken. It was barred, so no one had looted the place, but everything had blown around. Tables had toppled. Chair legs had cracked. Bottles and shot glasses had shattered. The phone that used to hang on the wall behind the bar was in pieces. In between the splinters and the shards, pools of alcohol had dried on the floor, leaving behind only the eye-watering scent of bathtub gin and the stickiness of mead. Edward helped Bella cover the busted window, using pieces of what had once been a table to temporarily stand in for the glass.

"Thanks," she said. "Looks like we're going to have a lot of fun at work tomorrow. Wait here for just a sec, okay? I'll be right back."

Taking extra care to avoid cutting herself, Bella picked her way through the rubble to the kitchen. Things were less of a wreck there; the closet where they kept crates full of bottled mead had a dent in the door, but its contents were intact. After sliding one of the bottles into a paper bag, she left the cash for it trapped beneath one of its mates. The back of one of their old menus provided a surface for the note of explanation she scribbled out to Emmett and Garrett, signed with her first initial followed by a flurry of X's and O's.

"I was going to suggest we hang out here, but maybe that's not the greatest idea," she said as she made her way back to Edward. "Well, even if things weren't a mess, if we left the light on for too long, someone would probably show up, wanting me to let them in and pour them a drink."

Edward directed his smile at the stool that was Adam's favorite: it was still standing. "Adam might do just that, in spite of everything. He'd call this a little clutter and say it didn't bother him."

"Don't I know it. He's like Jess and cupcakes. Anyway, ready?"

He nodded. At the last minute, she thought to turn the thermostat down, so Emmett and Garrett wouldn't be paying to heat the parking lot. Once the door was locked behind them and her jumble of keys was back in her bag, Edward was the one who linked their hands back together.

Bella led him to Till Taylor Park: a patch of overgrown weeds a few blocks from the boarding house. A rusted old hunk of something that looked like it used to be a miniature covered wagon lurked in the bushes, just like always. Aside from the tree limbs scattered everywhere, everything about the park was as she remembered it from before the storm.

Ignoring the benches and picnic tables, Bella climbed the jungle gym and made herself comfortable at the top of the plastic slide. After a moment of hesitation, Edward pulled himself up the rope ladder and sat behind her, spreading his legs so her hips were between his knees, like they were a couple of kids about to go down the slide together. Smiling at him over her shoulder, she opened the bottle. It was one of the drier meads. Only a hint of honey sweetness tingled over her tongue and warmed her belly.

"Drinking from a paper bag in the park," she said as she passed the mead to him. "I feel fourteen again."

He laughed, tipping his head back to take a few swigs before he responded. "Somehow, I can't picture you as a rebellious teenager."

"Mm, probably because I wasn't. This is the first time I've ever done this. My dad was a cop. The closest I ever got as a teenager was drinking this horrible, home-brewed beer in Jessica's bedroom when her mother was away visiting her aunt." Grimacing, she clutched her stomach at the memory. "It was awful. For some ungodly reason, we decided to mix it with Hawaiian punch. I threw up in her old toy box."

His mouth split into a grin wide enough to show the crinkly lines at the corners of his eyes: battle scars, in a way. Evidence that against all odds, he'd survived long enough to start to develop crow's feet. The paper rustled as she accepted the bottle back from him.

"What about you?" she asked after taking a sip. "What were you like as a kid?"

Her neck was starting to get a crick from watching him over her shoulder, but she didn't look away.

"Hmm." Tapping his fingers against the edge of the slide, he let out a mead-scented, smiling sigh. "Kind of a terror, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. When my first foster mom was still alive, I wasn't as bad, but once she passed... well. Yeah. A terror."

A laughing conversation held through a haze of smoke and noise floated back to her. He'd once told her he was good at fighting.

"I'm not convinced," she said, walking her feet up the slide and hugging her knees to her chest.

"No?"

"Nope. I'll have to see proof of this alleged terrorism."

His lips lingered on the bottle when he took it back—lingered where her mouth had just been. "Still willing to bet on me against the Raiders?" he asked.

"Always." Leaning back, she bumped her elbow against his arm. "All the same, try not to get us run out of town just to prove a point, okay?"

He chuckled. "I'll do my best."

As the level of mead in the bottle inched lower and lower, Bella started feeling woozy and relaxed. They watched a squirrel hop onto the jungle gym without displaying a glimmer of fear at their presence, which led to a debate about whether they should worry about rabies. Edward drained the last few drops of mead then scooted forward until both he and Bella went whooshing down the slide. They collapsed in a heap at the bottom, his chin digging into the small of her back. Laughing, he rolled to his side and gave her the most genuine grin she'd seen from him all day. Something bright and beautiful within her wanted to find a way to make him always look at her like that.

Bella froze, stopping those thoughts. She tried to remind herself that unless she and Carlisle could make a breakthrough, Edward's future looked bleak. Loving one person with Margaret Brown Syndrome was enough heartbreak. She didn't need to add another.

But logic couldn't quite scare away her smile, nor could it dissuade her from leaning over him on the cold grass. Danger skimmed his fingers down her sides and settled his hands on her waist. Without giving herself too much time to think, she planted a kiss on his cheek.

Scrambling to her feet before she could catch his reaction, she ran toward the swing set. The head start didn't help once Edward began to chase her. He was both faster and not half as tipsy, so he reached the target first. With his arms outstretched like he was body surfing, he swung on his stomach. When she claimed the swing next to him, making half-hearted accusations of cheating, he shifted to a sitting position, kicked off, and pumped his legs.

As they went higher, he told her about the swing his father—his real father—had built for him when he was a kid: a wooden plank suspended from a tree branch with a pair of ropes. Like all children, he believed that if he tried hard enough, he could swing all the way around.

At the top of her arc, Bella felt weightless, like she would live his childhood dream and wrap the chains around the bar. The swing set rocked, its legs hopping up as if it wanted to join in on the fun.

Edward slowed just enough to take a flying leap. Bella's heart jumped with him, taking up residence in her throat as she waited for him to land. No bones were broken, but he didn't manage to keep his balance. Waving at her from the ground, he claimed nothing was hurt except his pride.

"I haven't done that in years," he said. "I'm a bit rusty."

"The alcohol probably doesn't help."

"Blasphemy. Don't you know alcohol makes everyone more charming and coordinated?"

Bella's laugh rang out, leaving her feeling weightless all over again. "Yeah, I work in a bar, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. So? Are you going to jump, or what?"

Dragging her feet in the sawdust, she brought herself closer to earth before she let go of the chains and made the leap. For the space of one giddy breath, she flew. The landing sent a jolt up to her knees, but she didn't topple over the way Edward had.

"See?" he said, standing and dusting himself off. "More coordinated. We should probably get home, though. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow." Pausing, he jerked his head in the direction of the boarding house. "Do you want to use the phone in my room if the lines are up? You could call someone to come get you. It's pretty cold out here."

He left the rest of his thoughts unspoken, but she knew. Her own mind tacked on the words: _and you shouldn't walk home alone at this hour._

"Yeah, sure," she said. "Thanks."

The boarding house was done up in shabby, pre-Surge fabrics that showed every year of their age, like a stubborn old man clinging to the past. Faded murals of cowboys decorated crumbly brick walls. Nothing but the boarded windows suggested a recent storm.

Edward led her down the hall to a room with a twin bed, an antique dresser, a chipped porcelain sink, and an old radio. A few of his shirts were draped over a wooden drying rack, scenting the air with crisp lemon. With a nod toward the phone, he started folding his clothes, almost stepping into the bathroom to give her privacy. Amazingly, a dial tone hummed in Bella's ear. The lines usually went down for days after a bad storm. She dialed her own number; Rosalie was probably still there.

"Hello?" a male voice said on the other end.

Bella blinked. "Garrett?"

He sounded out of breath. Could vampires be out of breath?

"Yeah. Is everything okay?"

"Um. Yeah. Fine. Well, the bar is a mess, but the mead is still good. I left money. I'm in Edward's room, and... uh. Could you please pick me up, maybe? I can walk if you'd rather get back to, um, whatever."

Voices muffled by a hand over the receiver followed her request: Jessica asking what was going on, Garrett replying with a laugh that Bella was drunk.

"Of course," he said, his voice once again clear. "Give me about ten minutes."

After she hung up, Edward emerged with two glasses of water.

"Thanks, by the way," he said, standing close. "I needed this. Hope we don't regret it tomorrow."

"Nah." Letting the alcohol-induced boldness carry her away, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek again. "We won't."

.

.

.

Slumping down on the couch, Bella rested her feet in Jessica's lap. The room was spinning more than it should. She wasn't _that _tipsy.

"Jessie?" she said.

"Yes, drunkface?"

"Did Garrett offer to change you?"

"Huh?" After a pause, a smooth-skinned hand patted Bella's ankle. "How could he do that, when he doesn't even know that I know what he is?"

Bella snuggled deeper into the musty cushions and spoke through a yawn. "Please. They so know that we know. Either that, or they think we're fantastically stupid."

"We need to find a different word for 'know.' This conversation is getting confusing."

Bella snorted out a laugh and gave Jessica's arm a shove with her toes.

"It hasn't come up," Jessica said. A smirk pulled at her mouth. "Hey, speaking of _up_, do you think vampire guys can get—"

Bella cut her off with a wave of her hand. "Gah. I don't know. I've never thought about it."

"Why the hell not? It's an important question. Right up there with the existence of God and why the sky is blue and stuff."

"Mm, clearly. It's the sort of things philosophers would spend hours questioning, if they knew vampires existed."

"I think, therefore Garrett and Emmett get boners." Jessica squinted. "Not particularly convincing, but I don't know any other philosophical type phrases." A loose thread in the upholstery left behind a glimpse of yellowed padding as Jessica tugged it free. "Do you think Edward knows?"

Bella rolled her eyes. "Uh, he and Carlisle are good friends and all, but I don't think they're _that _close."

With a giggle, Jessica swatted Bella's leg. "I meant does he know about the vampires, you dork. Not about what's in their pants."

"Oh. I'm not sure. He didn't seem at all worried about using a knife in front of Mary, so maybe not."

Bella's eyelids grew heavier, dragging her into a light doze. Feathery warmth settled over her: a blanket, placed there by Jessica. Bella's last conscious thought before everything blurred into dreams was that Jessica would tell her about this Garrett thing in time. They'd never kept secrets from each other before.

And even if Garrett wasn't her guy, Bella still had Rose.


	11. Black the Night and Wild the Sea

_**A/N:**__Hello! Since it's been so long since the last update, I thought I'd include a few reminders about what has happened in the story so far, in case anyone needs their memory refreshed (also, a reader asked me to do so a few chapters back)._

_Bella and friends are living in a world in which storms cause intense damage to buildings and pull people through time against their will. The first storm, back in 1996, was called the Surge. Many of the time travelers develop a fatal disease, known as Margaret Brown syndrome. In addition to working at a lab, trying to stop the storms, Bella works at a bar run by Emmett and Garrett (along with a human named Tom). Adam, Bella's favorite customer, knows Edward from their days in the Army together. Bella has spent the past couple of years trying to save Jessica, and now Edward has been added to her list as well, since it was recently revealed that he is also a time traveler (born in 1901). Bella has recently revealed to Rosalie that she killed Embry in order to save him from being tortured by the Raiders (people who blame time travelers for the disturbances in the world). When we last left the group, Emmett and Rosalie were fighting (for reasons unknown to Bella), Garrett and Jessica were kissing and keeping secrets, Jake and Bella were bickering over whether Bella should ask the vampires to change Jessica, and Edward was blowing off steam by running around a playground with Bella._

_I think that about covers it. Huge thanks to my pre-reader, thimbles, for getting this back to me so quickly. And thank you for reading. Next update should be January 13th._

* * *

**Black the Night and Wild the Sea**

Bella stacked bare chicken bones, limp stalks of celery, shriveled onions, and bendy carrots in a deep pot. As she covered the mess of barely decent food with cold water and heaved it onto the stove, she caught herself glancing at the closed bathroom door again and again. Over the whoosh of the gas flame and the slow bubble of water transforming into weak soup, she heard old, familiar sounds: the clink of a jar being set on a tile counter, clothes shifting, a faucet running.

Standing there, she felt eight years old again, like she was still waiting in Renee's empty apartment for her mom and grandma to come home. After running home from school, she hadn't dared set a foot outside—not even to ask Mr. Phillips across the hall for help. While the riots had raged in the streets below, she'd kept the curtains drawn and lived on animal crackers and jars of pickles. Ever-obedient, she'd avoided the forbidden oven.

The opening of the front door had sent her into hiding under Renee's bed, transforming her into a quivering prisoner with her own hands clamping her mouth shut and binding her to her dusty jail cell. The heavy footsteps of a man had shattered the last of her courage as someone too big and too strong had ripped through the apartment, shouting "Renee" and "Marie" and "Bella, Bella, Bella" over and over. Bella hadn't recognized his voice at the time, but in years to come, it would become the new center of her universe as her mother's lullabies and grandmother's lectures faded into a misty collection of dreams. It hadn't occurred to her that the dad she barely knew would drive through two states while the world fell apart—that he would do so to make sure she was safe.

When no one responded to his shouts, the bed had creaked under his weight, the hollow spaces in the apartment filling with his sobs.

It was the crying that had drawn her out. His tears had given her a nudge of bravery. And it was then, as Charlie rocked her in his arms and whispered his thanks to the empty rooms, that she'd learned how dangerous it was to love someone. A heart could be a delicate thing.

Bella stirred the pot of soup, banishing the memory down the miniature whirlpool created by the dented spoon. An ointment-scented, woozy Edward emerged from the bathroom. Perching on his favorite stool, he propped both elbows on the counter. Bella wanted to usher him to the puffy bed in the corner and convince him to rest, but she knew he'd resist if she tried. He would claim he was fine, always fine.

"You okay?" he asked, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm fine."

Yawning through a lazy half-smile, he tried to coax his sleepy hands into spooning flour into a bowl. For a few minutes, he let the silence hang between them, jagged and expectant. His gaze slid over her now and then: a jarringly smooth companion to the quiet.

"How's Jessica doing?" he asked, at last.

"Better, I think. It probably helps that the guy she's crazy about has appointed himself as her nurse."

"Lucky her."

Bella laughed. "I thought Garrett wasn't your type."

"Damn." The dozy smile blossomed into a full smirk. "Caught me."

After a beat of hesitation, Bella risked that closed-off, straightened shoulders look of his by asking, "And how are you doing?"

Edward frowned at the orange slivers of carrot that she scooped off of the counter. "Pretty good. I feel almost normal, actually. No need for a nurse just yet."

"I'll let Garrett down easy for you."

Through his barely-there laugh, he watched her like she was a machine—like any second a tick or a buzz would tell him how she worked. Swirling patterns appeared under his fingertips in the flour. He tapped his toe, hovering on the edge of speech. Each time his mouth opened, he swallowed the sentences before they could take shape.

"Oh, what the hell," he said under his breath, seemingly directing the words at the bowl of flour. Nothing else had been added to it: no butter, no milk and eggs. Just white powder and his voice. His next comment was louder—aimed at Bella. "So, I have another question of probability for you."

"Yeah? Go ahead."

She continued cleaning up carrot peels, tossing them into a bucket for the compost heap. As he spoke, he crossed to her side of the island and stood close.

"If I were to ask you out," he said, "what are the odds I'd get shot down?"

_Danger. Danger. Danger_.

Bella's heartbeat and words both stuttered, but her smile didn't; it knew its answer. Edward waited, eyebrows raised. Chewing the inside of her cheek, Bella shifted her weight from foot to foot.

One date couldn't hurt, right? It wouldn't catapult her into heartbreak. If Edward could drum up enough hope, so could she. Ignoring the flashing warning signs, she let the smile win.

"Slim to none," she said. "I'd bet on you."

Edward beamed. "Good to know."

With that, he reached across the counter for his bowl and focused on measuring more flour. Coughing out a laugh, Bella elbowed his side.

"Your odds are slipping, here," she said.

He chuckled, caught her around the waist, and kissed her cheek. Too close. Not close enough. The fumes from his ointment stung Bella's eyes and made the back of her throat itch like she was coming down with a cold.

"Have dinner with me?" he said.

Bella's stern look lasted only a heartbeat before she felt her head nod. In return, he offered her a repeat of that genuine smile from the park. The burn in the back of her throat hardened into a lump.

Oh, please let her not regret this.

.

.

.

"Did you hear the President is coming to town?" Tom asked as he dried the new-to-them replacement glasses at half the speed that Bella washed them. A mismatched village of patterned tumblers, chipped mugs, and a few mason jars was lined up in the sink, almost hidden by soapy water.

Even with the plywood nailed up over the missing window, the bar looked miles better than it had the night before. Emmett and Garrett had transformed it. Not a shard or a splinter threatened to catch Bella or Tom's skin as they worked to set things back to normal.

"Seriously?" Bella said.

"Yep. Next week sometime. I guess he's coming to view the wreckage. Probably to record a few sound bytes, too. _Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of Eastern Oregon, blah blah blah_." Tom shrugged. "Same old, same old. Wonder if the City Hall protesters will be out that day."

"No idea."

With his hand poised over a glass, Tom froze. "Did you hear that?"

Turning the water off, Bella cocked her head. One, two, three knocks rattled the front door. Tom looked on the verge of asking her to go handle it, but instead he motioned for her to stay put while he investigated. His shout that they were closed didn't succeed in chasing away the person behind the knocks. Whatever she or he said convinced Tom; the locks clicked open. The door hinges creaked. After a low conversation that sounded as if it traveled through water to reach Bella's ears, Tom called her name.

Sheriff Ashby—Tom's father—stood in front of the patched window, tiny black notebook in hand. Side-by-side, the similarities between father and son were striking. Same dirty blond hair, same lanky build, same watery blue eyes. It was like looking at two of the same man: one who had lived his time straight through, and one who had ridden the Surge into the future.

Bella struggled to swallow around a boulder of fear and panic. This was it. They'd found her. Or, worse, they'd found Jessica. They would drag Jessica to a holding facility and cut her and put her under a microscope and stretch her so thin there wouldn't be anything left to bury.

"Hi, Bella," Sheriff Ashby said, his voice a gruffer, less nasal version of Tom's. "Sorry to bother you. I'll just take a few minutes of your time. Have either of you have seen Adam Davis since the storm? I'm told he's a regular here."

Bella tried to keep her composure while relief poured over her like honey, followed by the deep sting of guilt. Something could have happened to her favorite customer, and she was _relieved _that it was him instead of her or Jessica. More than that, some selfish demon lurking in her belly wouldn't let her stop thinking _at least it's not us_. She let out her breath in a slow stream through the polite, concerned expression she nailed on her face.

"I haven't," she said. "Is everything okay?"

Sheriff Ashby scratched his chin. "His neighbors went to check up on him after everything settled down, and he was gone. If he doesn't turn up soon, I'll have to report him as a possible time traveler."

"I saw him," Tom said. "I got here before Bella this afternoon, and Adam was here, asking if we'd be open today."

He looked so easy and nonchalant that Bella might have believed him, if she hadn't known every word out of his mouth was a bald lie. Tom never arrived at work before her, and that day had been no exception.

"Mhm." Sheriff Ashby studied his son over the top of his crooked glasses. "Any idea where he could've gone after that?"

Tom shook his head. "Didn't ask. Didn't really care where he went as long he wasn't hassling me, to be honest."

"I think he has family in La Grande," Bella said. Another lie to cozy up to Tom's. "Maybe he went over to see if they weathered the storm okay."

The sheriff asked to take down their information—by which he meant Bella's information, of course, since he knew his son's. Tom piped up before she could answer.

"I'm George Washington," he said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Dad, is this really necessary? Adam's a harmless drunk. He probably just found some booze and passed out somewhere. He'll show up once he sleeps it off. Always does."

Sheriff Ashby made the expected retorts about federal agents and maintaining control and Raiders, his face going redder with each word. Before Tom could continue the argument, Bella blurted out her full fake name: Annabel Newton. Everything they said, save Tom's outburst, presumably, was scribbled in the notebook.

After several minutes longer than the promised "few" had elapsed, Sheriff Ashby finally left. Bella went back to cleaning, while Tom went back to pretending to help. He waited a full five minutes before he spoke again, like he counted it off in his head. When his voice dissolved the silence, it was unexpectedly soft.

"You okay?" he asked.

Bella jumped, almost dropping a glass. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

"Oh, come on." He swatted her arm with the dishtowel. "I do actually show up to work often enough to notice that you and Adam are friends."

Bella mulled over her response for a few minutes. In the end, she decided to go with the honest question.

"Why did you lie?"

Air rushed in through Tom's teeth: a hissing noise like he might have made if he burned himself. "You really think I want Adam to get caught by the assholes who come in here every night?" His arm waved in the direction of the hill, scattering soap bubbles. "They get wind of it, and he'll be dragged up to Pendle Hill before my dad even files the report of suspected time travel or whatever it is."

Not long ago, Tom had told Bella that he wasn't such a bad guy. She still couldn't tell if it was the truth. Shaking her head, she plunged her hands back into the sink. It was exhausting, always viewing everyone she met through a lens of suspicion. What must life have been like when people could trust their coworkers and neighbors to be decent people?

Was it ever really like that?

"Maybe he'll be lucky," Tom said. "If he did time travel, I mean. Maybe he'll land way in the past, before all this shit started."

Bella tried to return his false smile, wishing either of them were the slightest bit convinced. Even if Adam got Margaret Brown's, he'd be better off prior to 1996, it was true, but there were no records of people going back. It was always forward.

.

.

.

"A date?" Jessica asked, her face void of the enthusiastic smile Bella had expected. Between them, they stretched a threadbare, summer scented sheet over Jess's naked mattress and snapped it into place. Before Bella could pick up the flat sheet to spread over the top, the tired elastic gave and one corner came untucked

"Yeah," Bella said, wrestling the fitted sheet back into place and willing it to stay there. "This Friday."

Jessica shoved a lumpy pillow into its case. "Are you sure that's the best idea?"

Bella tried to laugh. "What's this? I thought you'd be getting me rolls of quarters to bounce off of his ass."

"That was before that ass had Margaret Brown's." Sighing, Jessica attacked another pillow. "Are you trying to break your own heart?"

Even without the words, Bella would have seen the echo of Rosalie in Jessica's expression and the tone of her voice. She almost expected Jessica to sprout blond hair and lose a pinky finger.

"I mean, flirting is one thing," Jessica said, "but dating? If you fall in love with him... isn't losing a friend hard enough already?"

"It is. Most days I don't think anything could hurt more."

Jessica's eyes misted over, but she didn't let the tears fall. "Dammit, Bella," she said in a strangled voice. Facing the opposite wall, she sat on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders moved up and down, up and down, measuring out each slow breath.

"Jess—"

"It's fine." Jessica's hand sliced through the air along with her words. "You _should_ date and have fun. It's been a long time since you did anything like that. And hey, you always have at least five whole minutes between working at the lab and the bar. You can tell me all about it then."

Bella's stomach sank. She crawled across the bed, ruining their work, and grabbed Jessica in a hug from behind. Three corners of the fitted sheet popped off the mattress.

"Hey," Bella whispered. "I'll have more than five minutes. Way more. I'll force the days to have more hours in them, if I have to."

With a quaking laugh, Jessica leaned back and rested her head on Bella's shoulder. "Where are you going to put these hours? Because if they're during dates with Edward, I'm not sure how he'd feel about a threesome. Or how I would, for that matter. I mean, you're hot and all, but..."

"Pft. Don't even try to pretend I didn't rock your world when we were twelve."

Both of them smiled at the memory of the night they decided to find out what French kissing felt like. Their verdict: _weird_. The second their tongues had touched, they'd jerked away and squealed, both claiming they'd been joking about trying it.

"Oh, yeah, you blew my mind," Jessica said, flicking a lock of her hair over both of their shoulders. "Before that night, I never realized one person could have so much saliva."

"You're one to talk. You put St. Bernards to shame."

"Garrett tells a different story."

Bella snorted. "Sure he does. Ooh, hey, when I find these extra hours, Garrett can join us. It can be a fivesome instead of a threesome."

"Five?"

"Yeah. You, me, Edward, Garrett, and a cupcake."

Giggling, Jessica flopped onto her stomach. "Sounds perfect to me." Her fingernail traced the curved stitching on the mattress, going up and down like a needle tracking temporal energy. "Bella?"

"Hmm?"

Jessica tucked her lower lip between her teeth and shivered as if shaking something off. "Never mind."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." A smile made dimples dent Jessica's cheeks, almost convincing Bella. "I was just going to suggest we get back to making the bed, but I decided I'm way too comfy to move. Let's be lazy."

Bella's fingers followed the coil of one of Jessica's curls and tugged on the end. "You sure that's it?"

"Yep." Another dimpled, brittle smile. "I'm fine."


	12. Star Light, Star Bright

_**A/N:**__Huge, huge thanks to thimbles, my pre-reader, for letting me bounce ideas off of her and catching continuity errors that slipped right past me. And thanks to you, for reading. Next update should be January 27th._

* * *

**Star Light, Star Bright**

Bella tapped her spoon against the edge of her bowl before scooping up a dollop of the yogurt that she'd sweetened with honey from Emmett's hives. Edward watched her bring the spoon to her mouth, his own lips pursed in thought.

"I don't know," he said. "I mean, I saw Adam the day before the storm. What are the odds of him actually time traveling _during_ it?"

"Not great, I suppose," Bella said. "Not impossible, though."

He had a point, in a grasping at straws sort of way. When a storm brewed, the energy it discharged reached back through the years with orange claws to whip people forward in time. That was why Raiders circled like vultures when the warning sirens cried: to catch people as they landed in the present. Most time travelers were caught doing mundane things when they were swept away—the stuff they did most often. Washing the dishes, walking to work, sleeping. There were countless urban legends of people time traveling while using the toilet or having sex. Everyone knew someone who knew someone whose uncle had been peeing or whose friend had been in the throes of passion, when _snap_. New time. On average, people spent only a handful of days every year cowering from cracked skies, bursts of fire, and high winds. If time travel turned its eye toward Adam, he'd be more likely to go flying away when sitting on his stool at the bar.

Onlookers sometimes reported seeing an orange flash when someone was yanked out of their own time. Prior to the Surge in 1996, the disappearances were just a buffet of unsolved mysteries for conspiracy theorists to devour. For all his talk of probability, Edward's own case wasn't a typical one. The energy wasn't often able to reach back further than the 1930s or '40s. Bella had often wondered if people in the Dust Bowl years occasionally saw flame colored light speckling those clouds of dirt—if the most terrifying storms of her time cast an echo in theirs.

Adam was seldom alone; he liked to talk too much. Then again, Bella had been there when Jessica vanished, but she hadn't seen a thing. They'd been on First Beach, shrieking and giggling and daring each other to wade deeper into water so cold, it stung their skin and stole their breath. Bella had spun in a circle, arms outstretched and sea foam swirling around her ankles, and that was it. One full revolution, and Jessica was lost to her for a decade.

"Maybe he did a little flip," Bella said. "A few hours or a day or something. That happened to a friend of mine. He only disappeared two hours before the storm that got him."

"Really? Did he get Margaret Brown's?"

The simple answer was a quick no. The complicated answer was as long as Sam's death had been. Bella wasn't sure werewolves _could_ be affected by the disease. She hoped not.

"No," she said. "Didn't get a chance. He was caught by Raiders pretty much as soon as he arrived."

Caught as the crackle and rage of the storm trapped him in his weakened human form. He hadn't had a hope of fighting them off, but he could still heal. It would have been better if that ability had been stolen from him as well.

No, it would have been better still if the storm had held him frozen as a wolf. Then, he could have torn through the Raiders, and…

Bella couldn't finish the thought. Sam never would have done it. Cruel as they were, Raiders were still human. Sam would have clung to his principles to the very end.

Edward winced—that little flicker of pity that had become almost like a handshake in their world. "I'm sorry."

Like a reflex, the words, "_It's okay_," climbed up her throat, but Bella replaced them with a different truth.

"It was a long time ago."

After finishing their breakfast, they descended the stairs to the lab. Everyone was in their usual places—Garrett and Jasper on the scaffolding, Rosalie parked in front of her computer, Carlisle huddled over his research, Mary checking over the ointment and pills they'd made—except Emmett. Instead of watching Rosalie's progress over her shoulder, he traversed the overhead paths with Jasper and Garrett, dredging up Bella's time-clouded memories of watching a bear march around his enclosure at the zoo.

"The storm makes no sense," Rosalie said by way of a greeting. "We should've seen warning signs, but all of our readings for a week beforehand are the same. There's nothing there. No fluctuations, no bursts… nothing that would indicate a huge storm on the horizon."

Resting his forearms on the railing, Emmett stared down at the screen, rather than at her. "We did have the machines shut down for Surge Memorial Day," he said.

Waving a hand as if dismissing a mosquito, Rosalie frowned. "For five minutes. It came out of nowhere. There's always some sort of build-up. _Always._"

With a quiet sigh, Carlisle abandoned his work to crouch next to Rosalie and scroll through her findings. While he read, she rested her cheek on his shoulder. His hand settled on her arm, like words taking the shape of a touch. It was natural—practiced. A dance they could've been doing since one or both of them was human.

Emmett said nothing, did nothing. If this was Rosalie's attempt at revenge for the human woman, he didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing it succeed. Jasper, on the other hand, stepped away from Emmett, skipped every other rung as he hopped down the ladder, and shook his head as if to clear it.

Mary rolled her eyes. Bella was tempted to join her.

A ringing noise bounced around the lab. It took Bella a few seconds to realize it was the doorbell—a rare sound in this place. It was like hearing a leopard roar in the middle of Pendleton. Almost no one came out to the old barn at the edge of town.

Bella's gaze whipped toward the screen on the wall that displayed the front porch through the eye of the security camera. A portly, balding man fretted his way back and forth across it, watching the house like it was about to bite him. In his hands was a manila envelope, mottled with sweaty palmprints.

"It's Jenks," Jasper said. When the confusion on Bella and Edward's faces only deepened, he added, "Our lawyer. I'll go see what he wants. Stay here."

Bella moved closer to the screen. Jasper's appearance didn't seem to settle Jenks's nerves; the quivering little man fled as soon as the envelope was in Jasper's possession.

Instead of coming back inside right away, Jasper sniffed the envelope and ripped it open. Two pieces of paper fluttered into his hand. As he read one of them, he leaned against the door frame. Foreign emotions pulsed through Bella: a stranger's heart beating in her chest, hammering out its versions of love, sadness, and guilt. Next to her, Edward's breathing faltered. On the screen, Jasper tucked the paper into his pocket and turned back into the house. The feeling receded, trying to pull Bella with it, like a huge wave sweeping her legs out from under her and dragging her out to sea.

Upon his return to the lab, Jasper offered the other slip of paper to Rosalie. She read it over twice before showing Bella and Edward the message she'd received.

_Rose,_

_Tomorrow, go to Burns. Take your new friends with you. If you don't find anything of note in town, head south on Hwy 395. Your friends will know what you're looking for when they see it. I hope I have the timing right. If you get as far as Alturas, turn back._

_See you in a few months. Be good._

_All my love,  
__Alice_

Bella scowled at the old fashioned, looping handwriting. "How could she possibly know there's something we need to find in Burns? Isn't this the Alice who's lost in time? Is she back?"

"She's not back," Carlisle said, resting his elbows on the desk and forming a steeple with his fingertips. "Not yet. I suspect she left this with Jenks before she was taken. She… that is… err. Alice has a way of—"

"She's psychic," Emmett said, his voice the same unfamiliar, rough thing it'd been when he'd saved Bella from Jasper in the alley behind the bar. "That about covers it, right?"

Bella and Edward exchanged dubious looks before the latter shrugged and laughed.

"Knowing Alice, I can almost believe it," he said.

Bella had forgotten that it was Alice who brought Edward into their organization. Her mind went back to the conversation she'd had with Jake about some of the vampires possessing extraordinary abilities. Was that Alice's gift? The ability to see the future?

And what did she see waiting for them in Burns?

.

.

Bella stood in front of her closet, flipping through the offerings on the hangers again and again. Pickings were slim. She should've asked to raid Mary's supply of clothes. Or Rosalie's, perhaps, though she didn't know if Rose owned anything other than scrubs and a single sun dress. The sun dress seemed jinxed now.

After a few more cycles through the clacking hangers, Bella decided on a dress that used to be her mother's—one of the few things she'd dragged from Riverside to Forks to Pendleton. It was just as unsuited to the autumn weather as the sun dress, but she liked it. The flowy, flare-out-when-you-spin skirt reminded her of her mom. Renee had been one of many who had vanished into the dark during the riots, transforming from a forever-smiling mother into an unfinished sentence. Presumed dead, of course, but some days, when Bella was assaulted by a jolt of optimism, she let herself imagine.

Leaving her face free of the aged and homemade contents of her makeup case, Bella started untying the rag curls in her hair. One by one, soft spirals bobbed around her shoulders.

"Bella." Jessica's voice filtered through the cracks in the closed door. "Edward's here."

A final glance in the mirror was all Bella allowed herself before walking to the front of the trailer. Edward stood next to the fridge, as if he was waiting to cook with her.

"Hi," he said with a grin. "You look nice."

After rocking up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, she grabbed her bag from its hook by the door. "Thanks. So do you."

With a button-down taking the place of his usual t-shirt, he looked like a familiar stranger—someone who, upon being introduced for the first time, sparked up an instant feeling of _I know you_.

Jessica combed thin fingers through Bella's hair. Knitting her eyebrows together, she tested the weight of Bella's bag.

"Seriously? You're taking your gun on a _date_?"

"Hey, you never know," Edward said. "Might be useful."

Bella accepted the hand he offered, but took a step back. "Should I be worried that you think so?"

"Nah. I never provoke Raiders when I'm on a first date. I'm a gentleman."

Jessica looked him up and down, crossing her arms over her chest. "You are, huh? Is this the part where I ask your intentions?"

"Probably. Is this the part where I stammer and look nervous and promise my intentions are pure and say I'll have her home by eleven?"

"Yep. And you should call me sir, for good measure. But hey, pure intentions? Lame. I can't live vicariously through that."

Edward laughed. "I'll keep that in mind." Stepping toward the door, he added, "See you later, sir. Have a good evening."

Bella snorted. "Don't encourage her."

Hand-in-hand, they crossed the gravel road to the car he'd borrowed from Carlisle. Rosy light from the setting sun draped over everything, softening the whole town. Edward opened Bella's door before jogging around the front to get in the driver's seat.

"My plan for tonight got derailed a bit," he said as she clicked her seatbelt into place. "I was going to make us dinner in the boarding house kitchen and take you there, but for various reasons, that failed. Just as well, I guess, since my original idea was to borrow Rosalie's car, and that obviously didn't work out, either."

"Not surprising, knowing Rose. So what's the new plan, then?"

"Um. How squeamish are you?"

"Not so squeamish that I've ever shied away from catching and cleaning fish. Squeamish enough that I wouldn't eat insects or slugs."

"Good. Should be okay, then."

After parking the car at the boarding house, he led her a few streets over. His meandering path took them past renewed buildings featuring Preservation Society banners that rubbed shoulders with crumbling mountains of brick and glass. Caution tape decorated old storefronts and collapsing homes, strung up everywhere like Christmas lights. A water truck watched over Preservation Society headquarters, a line of people with jugs winding from its back like a giant tail.

Bella wondered if going on this date was a frivolous concern in times like these. Then again, when would it be any different? If they waited for some far-off, perfect day, they'd end up waiting forever.

On a nondescript corner near the county courthouse, Edward nodded at their target: a food stand with a sign that proclaimed its name in all-capitals and unnecessary quotation marks. "SANDWICHES." Underneath that, a sloppily painted sign announced that it was still open for business.

"I think the meat is chicken," he said. "It tastes like it, anyway. I'm almost sure it's not insect or slug, though, and I'm completely sure it's delicious." Pausing, he exhaled a laugh. "It occurs to me that I should've just said it was delicious and left it at that."

"Psh. If you had, I wouldn't feel nearly as adventurous as I do now."

As they neared the stand, a smoky, barbecued scent wrapped around Bella, waking her dormant appetite. Between working at the lab, dealing with Jessica's injections, and getting ready, she'd forgotten about lunch. The tall, skinny man who served them wore a cargo shorts and a t-shirt with a faded print of a tuxedo jacket. Clearly a local. To him, the wind raising goosebumps on Bella's legs must have felt like a mild breeze.

A handful of mismatched plastic tables and chairs circled the stand, but Bella and Edward opted to walk as they ate. As promised, it was delicious. After the first bite, Bella wouldn't have cared if it _wasn't _chicken.

"If we were in a different world," Edward said, "a _decent_ world, I swear I'd take you to a nice restaurant."

Walking with him in the cold, watching the last rays of sun drip away, Bella felt warm. She smiled.

"I'd rather have the sandwich, I think," she said. "Wouldn't pass up the decent world, though."

Laughing, he spun around and walked backwards so they could face each other. "Guess I know what to get you for your next birthday, then."

"Yep. One decent world, please. I don't ask much, do I?"

"Not at all. At the rate Rose works, she's bound to create one by then. I just need to figure out how to take credit for it."

Their slow journey through the middle of town led them to Till Taylor Park, where they perched on a bench to finish what remained of their sandwiches. Under a sudden torrent of silence, Bella wondered what to talk about. Edward's knee bounced up and down, jiggling the bench.

They couldn't discuss the lab or their pasts; too many people strolled by. Scrambling for something—anything—to say, Bella let her mouth run away with the first safe topic it found.

"What happened to the meal you were cooking?" she asked.

Edward groaned. "I sort of burned it. And by sort of, I mean charcoal would've been more appetizing." Balling up the greasy brown paper from his sandwich, he threw it into the garbage can. "Uncle Clyde was hanging around the kitchen, anyway. He wouldn't have left on your account."

"Uncle Clyde?"

"Yeah. One of the boarders. People call him that because he's like an uncle who corners you at family reunions and just won't shut up. And he tells the same stories over and _over_. If we were at the boarding house right now, he'd probably be telling you all about how he lost his first tooth or the time he put cinnamon in his oatmeal or something equally as riveting."

"And you decided to deprive me of his company?" Disposing of her own sandwich wrappings, Bella sprang to her feet and grabbed Edward's hands to haul him off of the bench. "That's just cruel."

"You joke, but I'll take you to meet him once I'm sure you like me well enough to not run away screaming after the fact. Then you'll see."

Swinging their linked hands between them, Bella tried to sound nonchalant when she said, "I already like you well enough for that."

Edward just smiled.

As they passed Pendleton Cinemas, he pointed at the handwritten sign over the door.

_Free admission this weekend. Donations accepted. All money raised will go to the Pendleton Storm Relief Fund. If you are still without electricity, come inside. We have heat._

"Wanna go?" he asked.

The movie they were showing was one Bella had seen several times before, featuring an alternate universe without storms and time travel. Typical for post-Surge movies. She nodded anyway. After waiting in a line that blocked part of the sidewalk, they both stuffed a few dollars into the donation jar.

The theater was nothing more than four cinder block walls with chipped red paint, a ticket booth, and a screen. The previous building had collapsed during a storm in the late 1990s, and the owners had remodeled it as a sort of drive-in without cars. During the weekends, people brought lawn chairs and snacks to play pretend for a few hours.

Bella and Edward chose a spot near the front, sitting cross-legged on the hard floor. After the opening credits rolled away, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, his voice so low she could hardly hear it over the film.

"Was that guy in _Back to the Future_?" he asked.

Bella squinted. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"Hmm. I think it might be him." His voice got even lower. "Did I ever tell you that was the first movie I watched when I arrived?"

"_Back to the Future_?"

"Mhm. I spent the next three years planning to save up to buy a DeLorean."

Bella grinned. "You changed your mind?"

"Once I found out they were just regular cars with weird doors? Yeah."

Instead of the story playing out on screen, Bella pictured the little boy from the early 1900s who fell into the future. In her imagination, she could almost see the lifelong obsession with machines taking shape as he discovered modern technology. Influenced by what she knew of the man he'd become, she saw him as perennially flour-dusted: a kind, strange little Edwardian ghost with a penchant for baking.

Edward's hand toyed with hers for a moment before his arm slipped across her shoulders. She liked the shape of his voice when he paused in his viewing to make a comment; it trailed over her neck like a kiss every time. Her brain whirred, begging her to ask what they were doing and why he even liked her, but she refused to allow it to spoil this. She scooted closer.

Too soon, the happily ever after arrived on screen. Edward drove Bella home and accompanied her to the front door. Strolling up to the trailer, they didn't say anything. Bella didn't fiddle with her keys and say what a nice time she'd had, as she'd done with other dates in the past. She stood on the bottom step of the swaybacked wooden stairs, so her face was almost level with his. As she leaned forward, he met her halfway. Their noses bumped, prompting a shared breath of laughter before their lips touched, slow and soft. Kissing Edward reminded Bella of his first day in the lab—the day she thought he looked like he'd invented smiling. He didn't kiss the way he smiled—not quite. It was more like he was inventing it _with_ her, stumbling toward something entirely new.

The kitchen curtain twitched, breaking the spell.

"Guess you'd better go inside before you get in trouble," Edward said with a chuckle. "See you tomorrow?"

Tomorrow. The mysterious field trip led by a supposed psychic. Bella nodded and gave him another two goodbye kisses that multiplied and turned into twenty before she could catch them and carry them off to bed. Wrapped in Edward's arms, she spent another five minutes in the glow of the porch light, watched by the trees and surrounded by the gossiping wind.

She was already in trouble.

.

.

Burns, Oregon used to be high desert, desolate and thirsty. After the Surge, lush prairies had sprung up all around it. Grass even grew on the roofs of some of the older houses, like the whole place was crawling back to the earth. The surrounding area was a green carpet that rolled out to welcome Bella and her friends as they roared into town. Bella sat in the backseat of Rosalie's car, sandwiched between Edward and Jessica. The former kept a hand on Bella's knee and insisted on calling Jessica "sir," even when Bella threatened to rename him "Marcie" if he kept it up.

Once or twice, when they passed under the shadow of an evergreen tree, he stole a quick kiss.

"Hey, I thought I told you there would be no groping of Bella in my car," Rosalie said. The faint smile reflected in the rear view mirror told a different story.

Burns's market was built on the site of what had once been the city hall. The visiting group parked their two cars and started their search there, among rows of scrawny chickens strung up by their feet, buckets of vegetables with dirt from the field still clinging to their skin, and barrels full of grain.

It was near a stall hawking chipped secondhand figurines that Jessica gasped. Her face transformed, past and present warring within her. With a whisper of Bella's name, she pointed at a woman who had, until that point, existed to Jessica only in faded pictures and half-remembered stories.

Everything in Bella froze. Twenty years worth of questions without answers bubbled from her mouth, condensed into one word.

"Mom?"


	13. Seven for a Secret

_**A/N: **__Thank you to thimbles for prereading for me, and to all of you for reading. :) Next update should be February 10th._

* * *

**Seven for a Secret**

Clutching a cloudy glass of water, Bella slid into the booth they'd chosen at Burns' only cafe. The place smelled of stale pastries and the ghost of bitter coffee. Only the ghost, though; the cafe had, of course, run out of the actual drink.

At a loss for anything to say, Bella resorted to sipping her questionable water. Her fingers tapped along the table, finding the cracks in the wood. She couldn't hold still. Every part of her needed to move, needed to shout and smile and cry. Under the table, Edward placed a hand on her jiggling leg and squeezed her knee. His grip tightened when Renee shed her jacket and sat on Bella's other side. Something rumbled in Garrett's throat, almost like a growl. Jessica pressed herself closer to him.

For the tenth time that day, Bella's mind provided a replay of her reunion with her mother. It had been much more subdued than she'd ever imagined. No huge display with sobbing and hugs for them—not there in the market, in front of everyone. It had been conducted in whispers through lumps in throats; clasped, shaky hands; and the offered proof of an old wedding ring dangling from a key chain. Renee hadn't needed the proof—not really. Bella had needed even less.

With her elbows propped on the cafe table, Renee twisted the ring from side to side. Keys jangled as the murky chip of a diamond tried to shine.

"I can't believe he kept it."

"You can have it, if you want," Bella said.

"No, no. It's yours. You've had it longer than I ever did."

As Renee passed the tangle of memories and keys back to Bella, Edward's posture stiffened. That was when Bella saw it: the thing that had pressed Rosalie's lips together and turned Jessica's breaths into shallow gasps. The thing she would have noticed first on any other person.

A red arm band.

"Why don't we move this conversation elsewhere?" Carlisle said. "Renee, if you'd like to accompany us back to Pendleton…"

The glare Rosalie shot him reminded Bella of a storm; she half-expected to see orange cracks spiderweb across her friend's eyes. Again, a noise like a muffled freight train took up residence in Garrett's chest—this time loud enough to make Renee turn her head. Leaning over the back of the booth, Emmett brushed something from Garrett's shoulder. For just half a second, his hand blurred.

Bella was fairly certain he'd smacked the back of Garrett's head.

"We have a spare room at the bar," Emmett said. "We'd be happy to put you up for a few days if you want to spend some time with Bella."

Renee pursed her lips, agreeing only after Bella tried to flash her an encouraging smile. Until Renee accepted, Bella didn't know if her mouth had turned up instead of down. She felt backwards and inside-out.

"There's plenty of room in Carlisle's car," Rosalie said. "You can ride with him."

Leaving her water on the table, Bella stood on legs that didn't feel like her own. As everyone else filed out, Rosalie pulled her aside.

"You know I'd do almost anything you," Rosalie whispered, "but if she's… I can't have one of those people anywhere near my lab. I can't. I'm sorry."

Lost for a reply, Bella settled for a nod. Outside, Edward was already standing by Rosalie's car with Jessica and Garrett. Swallowing her sour disappointment, Bella climbed into Carlisle's backseat.

At least Jasper and Mary had stayed back in Pendleton. Riding with either of them in such a tight space would have made fear boil up inside of her. Against her better judgment, Bella wondered if either of them would try to have her mother for dinner, given what Renee appeared to be. It was best not to think about it.

By some feat of magic, Emmett crammed his body into the front seat. The instant Carlisle turned the key in the ignition, Emmett cranked up the music—80s hair metal—and nodded along as if he and Carlisle couldn't hear everything Renee and Bella might want to say. While Renee watched the two vampires, skittish as a deer, Bella took the opportunity to study her mother.

Renee was thinner, no question about that. Her skin stretched tight over her bones, but in many other ways she looked the same. Same haircut, same cheap bangle around her wrist, same bare fingernails bitten to the quick. No new streaks of gray, no wrinkles. She hadn't aged. Bella wondered if her smile was the same.

Once they were back on the highway, with only Rosalie's car tailing them, Renee wrapped her arms around Bella and squeezed tight. Closing her eyes, Bella wished it felt like the lavender-scented hugs that brightened her memories. Of course, it couldn't be exactly like those days. They were the same size now, with a gulf of years and red fabric between them.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Renee whispered. "How old are you? You haven't skipped—"

"No. I'm 28, just like I should be. Lived my time straight through, so far."

Renee laughed, but Bella couldn't see the smile that accompanied it—couldn't trace its lines to find the echo of Renee's old grin. Renee held her lips close to Bella's ear, trying to keep their conversation private.

"Good Lord. I can't believe my baby is only two years younger than me."

Two years. Renee must have landed in 2013. When she'd disappeared during the riots, she'd been 28.

With a glance at Emmett and Carlisle, Renee added, "How do you know these people, by the way?"

"They're friends. We work together. Don't worry. You can trust them."

"How do you know that? Bella, in this world, you can't—"

"I know all about this world. I've been living in it since I was eight. I trust them because they've earned it."

Not entirely true, in the case of Carlisle. She hardly knew him. But the others trusted him, and he had developed ointments and pills to prolong Jessica's life. It was enough.

Nodding, Renee stroked Bella's hair the way she used to when Bella crawled into bed with her after a nightmare. Bella backed away—as much as she could, in the small car. With the heater going, it was too warm. The air was thick and hot. The thin stream of cold blowing in through Emmett's cracked open window wasn't enough for relief. With a tap of Emmett's shoulder, Bella asked him to turn the heater down a few degrees. He did so, opening his window wider for her. Cold air blasted her face, and she loved him for it.

"What about the company you've been keeping?" Bella asked. She didn't need to point to the damning circle of red curled around Renee's bicep.

Renee shrugged. "They absolutely can't be trusted, but we all do what we have to do to protect ourselves. When I arrived, they…" Trailing off, she picked at a loose thread on the arm band. "Fighting with them seemed safer than fighting against them."

Bella thought of everyone working for their organization. She thought of Rosalie's constant movement, of Edward racing through the dark to give a dead woman a scrap of dignity. Suddenly, she felt very old.

"I suppose it would be," she said.

Slumping forward, she rested her forehead on the back of Emmett's seat. Something cold brushed her hand: his fingers. Awkward as the position was, he managed to hold on, to say, "_I've got you_," with a touch.

"Are you going to stay with them?" Bella asked.

"I honestly have no idea."

The silence of long car rides sneaked in—the silence of strangers. As the miles passed, lush fields rolled out of view. Wreckage crept up: the bones of houses, the skeletons of entire livelihoods wreathed in that fucking green that Bella couldn't escape. Little shoots of grass were already appearing where, just days before, the ground had been shriveled and yellow. Carlisle ferried them past the trailers that had finally been set up for those whose homes were obliterated. Squeezing Emmett's hand, Bella reminded herself that she was one of the lucky ones, all things considered.

At last, they rolled into the potholed stretch of pavement outside the bar. As Bella got out and stretched her stiff legs, little pinpricks of cold hit her cheeks.

She'd been right about Pendleton rolling out an early welcome for winter. It was snowing.

.

.

Bella stomped her feet on the trailer's steps, sending tiny snowstorms dancing around her legs. Renee was now settled in what had been Bella's changing room at the bar, an old couch serving as her bed and stacks of boxes offering storage for the belongings she didn't have.

Maybe ducking out so soon made Bella a bad daughter, but she needed space. She ached for the power to shove her arms out and make the whole town vanish, leaving her with room to think. At least Emmett had offered the room at the bar. Bella didn't know how she would have managed to stammer and fumble her way through explaining why Renee couldn't stay in the trailer.

There were already plenty of Raiders at the bar, most nights. Renee would feel right at home.

Garrett had long ago tugged Jessica away from the commotion, so Bella expected to see him when she opened her front door. What she didn't expect was to find him engaged in a staring match with Jake. Seth and Jessica sat in the kitchen, slapping cards onto the table and conversing in laughter and smiling challenges. Bella's stomach roiled, her mind taunting her with Tanya's parting words to Jake.

_If we so much as suspect that she knows about us, we're supposed to either kill her or change her. If we don't, we'll be put to death. Be careful. Make her run, if it comes to it._

"Hey, Bells," Seth said, waving half of what smelled like a liverwurst sandwich.

"Hey. Uh, are we having a party?"

"Just looking into options for expanding my marem," Jessica said with a wink. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Gonna go back tomorrow before my shift at the bar and talk some more."

_More_ implied there had been much talking at all. Bella thought there might have been, if not for a stripe of red pinning them on opposite sides of a war.

With a seated, wiggly dance of triumph, Seth slammed an eight on top of the discard pile. "Hearts."

Jessica groaned. "You suck."

Inching away from his stand-off with Garrett, Jake wrapped an arm around Bella. After the chill of the past few hours and the walk home through the snow, he felt even warmer than usual.

"Guess I'll head off," Garrett said. He didn't make it two steps toward the door before Jessica cleared her throat.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked.

"As if I _could_ forget. Give me a chance, woman."

Bending at the waist, he touched his lips to hers. Seth took the opportunity to try to peek at Jessica's cards, his grin as wide as Jake's frown was deep. As Garrett broke the embrace, he looked down at her as if even his flawless memory couldn't be trusted to carry her smile home with him.

"Nice meeting you, man," Seth said, offering Garrett the hand that wasn't holding a sandwich.

Garrett waited a beat before accepting, not quite managing to conceal his wince when his palm met Seth's. "Likewise. I'll see you tomorrow, Bella."

Another lingering kiss from Jessica, and he was gone. Jake waited, tapping his toes for three minutes before finding a scrap of paper and scribbling out a message to Bella.

_He's still there. Close enough to hear us. Is he stalking you? Want me to kill him?_

For the first time since the cafe, Bella laughed. Snatching the pencil out of his hand, she wrote her response.

_Relax. He's probably just worried about us. Had some Raider issues today. Long story. I'll tell you later._

With a shrug and a reluctant nod, Jake reached into his pocket.

Jake approving of the actions of a vampire? Bella almost wanted to take a picture to commemorate the event.

Into Bella's cupped hands, he deposited several vials of thick, reddish liquid. The glass was hot to the touch, burning her skin like Paul's temper.

"Didn't even have to punch him to get it," Jake said.

When hit by Bella's effusive thanks, he just grinned his sunshine grin and told her it was no trouble. Paul didn't mind giving it to her, as long as she played by Jake's rules. Translation: as long as she didn't give their blood to the vampires. Guilt prickled her belly, but she shoved it away. She had no time for it.

_Want some of mine and Seth's, too?_ Jake wrote. As soon as Bella nodded, he folded the paper over and shredded it into yellow confetti.

A cheer followed by an outraged gasp rang out from the table. Jessica threw her cards down. She'd lost.

"That's it," she said, sticking her tongue out at Seth. "You're officially out of the marem."

.

.

Carlisle's black umbrella cut a path through the white of the forest, rising and falling with each step. Bella supposed it made sense for him to use it; without a shield, the falling snow would settle on his head and shoulders, giving him away as something _other _when it didn't melt.

Already, the woods looked as if they had been frozen for decades. Try as she might, Bella couldn't conjure up a memory of the crisp joy of spring.

"I've been thinking," Carlisle said once they were far enough into the trees to be enveloped in cold silence. "I'd like to try palliative care on your mother, using your friend's blood. She's the same type as Jessica. I'd also like to put her on a half-dose of pills and ointment."

Bella wondered how he knew Renee's blood type. Could he smell the subtle differences by sniffing at the necks of his patients like the vampire version of a wine expert?

Rosalie wouldn't like anything that could lead Renee's suspicions close to the lab. Instead of mentioning this, Bella offered Carlisle a few new wolf blood samples. It looked like a bizarre drug deal, given how she'd wrapped the vials in flannel to protect them from the cold and how she slid them into his palm without comment.

Back in the lab, the instant Bella's feet hit the bottom step, Emmett was there with a protective yellow jumpsuit. Nearby, a white mouse thrashed in Rosalie's hand, its claws raking over her fingers as it tried to escape her grasp.

"What are we doing?" Bella asked.

"Experiment," Emmett said, tapping the end of her nose before he covered her head with the hood of the jumpsuit. "Very dangerous stuff."

Carlisle's eyebrows drew together. "What are you planning, exactly?"

"I want to try funneling some of the energy into the mouse," Rosalie said. "The idea is to use the ointment machine, but to leave it going a lot longer. Hours, maybe. I'm not sure, yet. Long enough to affect the mouse's age. If everything goes according to plan, the overall level of energy in the earth will go down a little bit—permanently, I hope."

"Are you certain it'll be safe?" As he spoke, Carlisle's fingers skimmed Rosalie's arm. It was a fragile, fleeting touch, like he thought it wasn't safe to hold her tight, like he thought she might shatter.

"We've come a long way," she said, bringing both hands up to hold the mouse. There was that tell again—the one that told Bella nothing. Rosalie rubbed the knuckle where her pinkie should have been. "We know so much more about it now. Since it'll be controlled and pure, it shouldn't pull anything forward. It shouldn't act like a storm. Instead of moving through time, the mouse should get older or younger. My hope is that once the energy changes the mouse, it'll be used up. If it's successful, we can repeat it again and again, maybe weaken the storms."

None of this made sense to Bella, but the vampires nodded as if Rosalie wasn't speaking a foreign language.

Temporal energy didn't behave that way. It didn't play by those rules. The amount they put into the ointment was tiny: a fraction of a fraction of what rose up during storms, but even that was risky. What Rosalie was suggesting sounded extremely dangerous to Bella, not to mention ineffective. Since when did temporal energy age anything?

And what made Rosalie think it was a finite thing—a resource that could be used up, like it was crafted from the remains of dinosaurs?

"I don't understand," Bella said. "Why would it affect the mouse's age? When has it _ever_ done something like that?"

Another rub of Rosalie's blank knuckle. "If I'm right, that's its purest form."

"And what makes you think you're right?"

"Just a theory. I've been working with it quite a while. Mary? Are we nearly ready?"

Mary peeked over a railing twenty feet overhead, blond curls almost obscuring her round face. "Just about."

In the absence of Edward—_"Yes, Rose, I'm taking a day off. Just one. Some of us actually need to sleep from time to time."_— Mary swung around the scaffolding and trailed a black hose from the ceiling to the floor. The mouse cowered in the corner when Rosalie placed it in the machine, its whiskers trembling. Something new went onto the end of the hose before Rosalie and Mary fastened it to the machine: a small device that looked like a metal accordion. When it turned her way and she caught a glimpse of the inside, Bella saw herself reflected in concave yellow lenses—an upside-down Bella in a different, honey colored world.

"Are you certain you want to do this _now_?" Carlisle asked.

Rosalie nodded. United for a change, she and Emmett stood in front of Bella while Mary flipped the switches. Between their shoulders, Bella kept her gaze on the mouse.

It didn't take hours, but it took long enough that Bella's feet started to protest against standing in one place. Just as she paced away from Rosalie and Emmett to peek at Carlisle's research, the orange light flashed green.

The mouse shrank. Its ears lost their roundness. The fat padding its body disappeared, along with its coarse hair, turning it into a pink, wriggling baby. And then, just as quickly as the mouse's babyhood had swept in, that youth was yanked away in a shower of orange sparks. Mary streaked toward the switches.

Yellow smoke poured into Bella's vision, only the protective suit saving her from its antiseptic sting slicing into her lungs. Rosalie stole Bella's breath by slamming into her and shielding her with her body. Through the clear visor, all Bella could see was yellow fabric and blond hair.

"Is everyone all right?" Carlisle asked.

The consensus was that they were, but the machine hadn't fared so well. It lay in pieces on the floor, bent and charred.

Emmett was the first to approach it. Reaching into the rubble, he extracted a somewhat singed and deeply traumatized adult mouse. One of its ears had remained baby-sized, poking up from its larger body like a rebellious cowlick.

"Poor guy," Garrett said. "I told you we should've used a plant."

Mary whistled, nudging the shrapnel of the ointment machine with her toe. "Oh, dear. Edward is going to be _pissed_."

.

.

"No," Renee said, passing the ointment and pills back to Bella.

"No? But it could help—"

"I'm not going to take strange medicine. I don't know what it might do to me. And anyway, I don't have MBS."

"Exactly. It's preventative—or the inventor hopes it is, anyway."

Renee's hard expression didn't budge. The red band was still there, hugging her arm like a snake.

Fine. Let her refuse it. More for Jessica and Edward. Bella shoved the ointment and pills back into her bag. She hadn't even gotten around to offering the syringe of Jake's blood yet. So much for that.

Renee twisted her mess of curls into a bun and skewered it with a pencil. Sitting cross-legged on her makeshift bed, she let her shoulders rise and fall in a drawn-out shrug.

"This isn't how I pictured our reunion."

"Me either," Bella said. All those times she'd taken refuge in that dress and allowed herself to indulge in the luxury of hope, she'd never imagined this. Not once.

"It'll get better," Renee said. With the red-banded arm, she reached up to touch Bella's cheek. Her skin was still so soft. "It's just going to take time. I want to know everything about you. I missed so much. Tell me something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything. Tell me about your first love."

Even though he hadn't filled that role—not really—Embry smiled his way across Bella's mind. "Not a good subject," she said, flopping down next to Renee. A cloud of dust kicked up and scratched at her nose.

"All right." Renee kept her voice as steady and measured as her gaze. "Something else, then. How did you end up here?"

"It's where I ran out of gas." Holding up a hand, Bella paused to sneeze. There was a grain of truth to her story. When she'd arrived in Pendleton with Jessica and the wolves, they'd been coasting on fumes. "Ended up sticking around."

"Mm. That explains it. Can't think why you'd want to stay, otherwise."

"I kind of like it, actually. My friends have been really good to me."

"By hiring you to work as their maid?"

"Hey, it's work, which is more than a lot of people have. And there's the bar, too."

Renee walked her fingers up the shredded upholstery, dancing over missing buttons and yellow slices of exposed foam. "So, you're pretty settled, then? I can't convince you to run off someplace, just you and me?"

A crash sounded from the front of the bar: a thunderclap to match the _no_ that jolted through Bella. Jumping to her feet, she raced to find the source of the noise.

Three Raiders faced off against Tom, their bodies transformed into silhouettes by the bright white rectangle of the open door. One of them stumbled and caught himself on the wall—already drunk, most likely. Splinters of a broken chair lay scattered across the mismatched tiles.

"I already told you," Tom said, "we're closed."

Throughout their argument, the TV in the corner continued showing the President walking through Hermiston—a nearby ghost town that had been hit hard by the storm. The destruction there was absolute, leveling what few houses and families had clung to the area after the Surge. As Tom had predicted the week before, while the President looked out on the devastated shadow of a town, he offered the expected speeches.

"Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of Oregon," he said. "I urge anyone who knows a suspected time traveler to report it to the proper authorities. Help them get the assistance they so desperately need. Don't give in to fear. Don't hand your neighbors over to the Raiders. We are better than that. We are better than superstition and murder dressed up as justice."

Bella swallowed a bitter laugh. As if the Feds treated time travelers so well.

One of the Raiders advanced. Bella's fingers slid down her leg toward her ankle holster. Tom caught the movement, begging her with a frantic shake of his head to stop, _stop_, don't take it that far.

Emmett materialized at the kitchen door, wearing an expression that made Bella's courage run and hide under a table. A few steps from him was all it took for the Raiders to mutter about going somewhere else and make their retreat. Bella almost wanted to follow them out the door until Emmett's mouth softened into his usual, dimpled smile.

"You all right?" he asked Tom.

"Yeah. Fine. Damn. You have to teach me how to do that."

Emmett's deep chuckle bounced back as he returned to the kitchen. Stooping to pick up the remains of the chair, Bella let herself peek at the door of Renee's room.

Closed. Renee had stayed in there the whole time.

"I hate those assholes," Tom said, helping himself to a seat in one of the sturdier chairs and propping his heels on the table. "That could've gotten so out of hand, all over nothing."

"Yeah," Bella said. "Hey, how did you know I had…"

"Oh. That. Yeah… saw it once when you were changing a light bulb. Can't say I blame you." His tongue picked at one of his back teeth, trying to dislodge something that wouldn't come loose even when he made a loud sucking noise. "Speaking of Raiders, why the hell are Emmett and Garrett letting one stay in the bar? Who is she?"

Rough wood scraped Bella's hands, threatening to break the skin. "An old friend who fell on hard times. She needed a place to stay."

"Hmm. For how long?"

The truth came pouring out before Bella even realized it _was_ the truth.

"Not long, I hope."

.

.

Unlike Jessica, Edward looked away when Bella injected him, focusing on the peeling wallpaper of his little room at the boarding house. Heat crept over the skin under her hand as she pushed the plunger on the syringe. Sighing, she wondered if he would pick up some of Paul's less desirable traits—meaning any of them—the same way Jessica always seemed to borrow Jake's smile when she used his blood. Wrapping a hand around her wrist, he banished her fears with a kiss pressed to her cheek.

"Sorry I bailed on you with your mom," he said. "I just thought you might like some time alone with her."

Bella smiled. "No, you didn't."

"All right, so I was a_ little_ nervous about being stuck in close quarters with a Raider. I _am _sorry for abandoning you, though."

"It's okay." Something like loyalty tried to hold Bella's tongue, but she let her next words loose in spite of it. "I didn't want to be there, either. Does that make me a bad person? I haven't seen my mom in twenty years. I should want to be around her constantly."

With a shake of his head, Edward scooted closer. The aged springs of his bed creaked under his shifting weight. "I don't think there is any normal reaction in a situation like this." He traced her collarbone and let his finger dip down to the top button on her shirt before skimming back up the other side, watching his hand's tickling progress instead of keeping his eyes on her face. "She actually is one, though? A Raider, I mean."

"Who knows? She says she joined them to protect herself. I guess that means that she's joined in with their… _activities_. I mean, two years. Can't exactly say she has a cold and play hooky every time there's a hanging, can she?"

Instead of speaking, Edward combed his fingers through her hair.

"Don't tell her what you are, okay?" Bella said. "Just in case. I told Jess the same. God… I'd choose either of you over her. I wouldn't even have to think about it. What does that say about me?"

His first reply was a kiss, as if he was testing her words with his mouth and tasting the truth on her lips. Even though he hadn't joined in with the cooking ritual that morning, he still tasted sweet and light, like he'd sampled his favorite ingredients. His hands on Bella's waist urged her forward until her legs draped over his.

"You're a good person," he said. "Granted, I haven't known you very long, but unless you're hiding a basement full of bodies somewhere, I'm pretty sure I'm right."

"Damn. Note to self: dispose of the bodies."

"Ah, don't worry about it. We can get rid of them together. It'll be our second date."

Ducking her head, Bella ran a hand over the skyline etched into his arm.

"This one is Chicago, right?"

"Yep."

"Do you miss it?"

He grinned. "Not right now, no."

Her fingers skipped along each of his tattoos, following the stories of his work-roughened skin. Sweat beaded up on his forehead.

"Is this normal?" he asked. "Am I supposed to be this warm?"

Bella nodded. "You'll have a mild fever for a few hours. But hey, look."

She laughed when her cold fingers on his ribs made him jump. Holding up his arms, he let her pull his shirt over his head. The two sores on his chest had already faded, barely a pink smudge in their place.

"Huh. Wow. You and Carlisle are actually going to do it, aren't you?"

"Do what?" Squinting, she poked his side. "I don't know what you've heard, but I'm kinda fond of someone else."

"No." Her favorite smile tugged at his lips. "Not that. Hell no. I meant you're actually going to cure me. Us."

Leaning in, she kissed the tattoo just above his heart: a green vine that climbed up to his shoulder. "We're sure as hell going to try."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Hermiston isn't actually a ghost town in the real world, just in my post-Surge world._


	14. The Cruel War is Raging

_**A/N: **__Thanks to thimbles for pre-reading, MildredDempsey for the idea for the new dress, and CallMePagliacci for her help with floriography. And thank you for reading. :) Next update should be February 24th._

* * *

**The Cruel War is Raging**

With the sky inching toward pink and the sun only a suggestion on the horizon, Bella let herself into the lab. It was early enough that only Rosalie was there, hunched over her desk. For once, the computer's monitor displayed the spinning colors of the screen saver. Rosalie's attention was focused on the mouse from the experiment; it scampered around her desk, penned in by a miniature fence crafted from staplers, stacks of paper, and Rosalie's keyboard.

The ointment machine sat in a new position beside her chair, halfway put back together. New parts lay scattered around its base like discarded clothing—bits and pieces it had been trying on for size. Waving at Bella over her shoulder, Rosalie held a pencil out to the mouse. It gnawed on the pink eraser.

"Looks like he's almost forgiven you," Bella said.

"Mm. I fed him about ten minutes ago, so that helps. And I promised I wouldn't put him in the ointment machine again." With her free hand, Rosalie rubbed the dark circles under her black eyes. "We really should've started with a plant. No use trying to run when we can't even walk—when we've been trying to crawl for years, really."

Slowly, Bella lowered herself into the chair next to Rosalie. Embry and Jake's voices sang a dark melody in the back of her head, weaving reminders of everything they'd told her about the warning signs of thirst in a vampire. She ignored them. Rosalie's breathing faltered—just for a second—before she closed her eyes and slumped over, resting her head on Bella's shoulder.

"I'm so tired," Rosalie said, letting her breath out in a sigh that raised goosebumps on Bella's skin.

Bella took her friend's hand. "Maybe you should take a vacation. I've heard rumors that such things still exist."

The expected, instant _no_ didn't arrive. Rosalie hesitated, her fingertips skimming over the lines on Bella's palm as if charting her future. When her answer came, it brought the suggestion of a smile along for the ride.

"It's tempting. If I could, I'd take everyone to an island in the middle of nowhere." A tickle raced up Bella's arm as Rosalie traced her life line. "Isle Rosalie. We'd sunbathe and relax and forget we'd ever heard of temporal energy. And because it'd be my island, Emmett and Carlisle would have to get along, or I'd banish them both to an island just big enough for a palm tree and them."

Taking advantage of Rosalie's distraction, the mouse climbed over the stapler. He wriggled in her grasp when she scooped him up, his forgiveness evaporating. His smaller ear twitched.

"Come on, Vincent," Rosalie said. "Back to the cage with you." Opening the wire cage under her desk, she shoved him inside. Vincent retreated to a corner to tremble, as if having a flashback of his harrowing experience with the machine. Rosalie's almost-smile flitted away.

"If we did live on Isle Rosalie," she said, "then Jessica and Edward would get worse. The world outside our bubble would keep falling apart. I wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it."

"Fixing the whole world isn't your responsibility," Bella said, shooing away Rosalie's shake of the head with one of her own. "It's _not_. It's all of ours. You're allowed to rest now and then. As long as you don't start using Tom as a role model for your work ethic, I don't think anyone would blame you for taking a break."

"Hmm."

Rosalie stared at Bella. Her head cocked to one side, like she was listening for some secret rhythm of Bella's heart to back up her claims. She opened her mouth, but something beyond the reach of Bella's hearing made the words die in her throat.

Edward waved from the top of the stairs. Halfway down, he froze, slack-jawed. Bella received only a peck on the lips as he passed her. The ointment machine got a caress.

"Poor baby," he said. "What did they _do_ to you?"

"I was just about to get back to that," Rosalie said. "Another few hours, and it should be back to normal."

"Pfft. Like I'm going to let you anywhere near her again."

When Bella laughed at him for shielding the machine with his body, he grinned as if he believed her laughter was created just for him.

"It's my fault," Rosalie said. "I'll fix it."

"We'll see."

.

.

Dry heat smacked Bella in the face and made her eyes water as she opened the oven. The casserole still needed a few more minutes. As she closed the oven door with a clang and straightened up, a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. Already familiar lips teased along her neck.

"All fixed?" she asked, trailing a hand over tattooed skin.

"Mhm. Almost good as new."

Spinning her around to face him, Edward touched his lips to hers. He smelled like he always did after work—like engine grease and metal and soap. Heat leaked from the oven and warmed her leg as he backed her up against the counter.

"Good morning," he said.

"Hi."

"Sorry I got distracted downstairs."

"It's okay. I got a lot done."

His thumbs discovered the stripe of skin between her waistband and her shirt. "Are you implying you wouldn't have if I'd been up here?"

Grinning, she hopped onto the counter and tugged him forward until he stood between her legs. "Am I doing much right now?"

"Yep. I think you're being _very_ productive."

His lips found hers again. He hadn't shaved in a while; his whiskers were at that length where they flirted back and forth across the border between soft and rough. Sighing, she hooked her legs around his hips. Thoughts flew away, dissolving into clouds with each brush of his tongue against hers. Bella felt like the now-repaired machine, energy funneling into her and lighting her up inside.

"Annabel," Edward whispered.

Drawing back, hands against his chest, Bella looked into his green eyes—the sort of green she liked. "Isabella," she said. "My real name. It's Isabella. Annabel is just what's on my ID."

"Oh."

"Sorry I didn't tell you before. I—"

Shaking his head, he said, "Isabella," his lips grazing hers with each syllable, like he was learning her along with the name.

The truth sounded sweeter in his low voice—less like a secret. As his lips traced a path down to her collarbone, his hand sneaked up her ribcage to brush the underside of her breast. Each time his mouth touched her skin, she forgot about the vampires down in the lab—the ones who could undoubtedly hear every sigh, every hammering beat of her heart.

Bella's casserole was about to burn. She could smell the sweet potatoes going past caramelized and careening toward blackened, but she kept kissing Edward. It was intended for the wolves, and they would eat anything. Her hand reached out, almost upsetting the bowl of dough she'd set aside to rise.

His lips neared the neckline of her shirt… and stopped. Instead of more touches and kisses, a laugh floated up.

"Crap," he said. "I'm sorry. I swear I washed my hands three times."

Frowning, she looked down. Black fingerprints mapped out the route his wandering hands had followed, smudging over her chest, waist, and hips.

Bella groaned through a laugh of her own. "I'm going to make quite a statement at the party."

"Well, Jessica _did_ tell me that pure intentions are boring. Seems fitting, given that it's her birthday." Another kiss landed on her collarbone. "We should probably get to work, huh?"

"Probably. Garrett will be picking her up soon."

Edward kissed her just five or fifteen more times before helping her down. While he scrubbed and scrubbed his hands, she took the casserole out to cool and climbed up on the counter to retrieve one of the precious jars of sauce she'd made from the last of summer's tomatoes.

"Is that going to be enough?" Edward asked as Bella turned the risen pizza dough out onto the counter and rolled it into shape.

"It'll have to be."

After drying his hands, he touched her breast again, proclaimed himself clean since he didn't leave a mark, and dodged the snap of her tea towel. From the back of the freezer, he produced a bag that held all of five raspberries. Footsteps sounded on the stairs—too loud to be a vampire's natural way of walking. Rosalie appeared on the landing, one hand shielding her eyes from seeing anything she might wish to forget.

"Is it safe?" she asked.

With a laugh that left her feeling breathless and light, Bella turned her tea towel on Rosalie. "Yeah, of course. We're just naked. No big deal."

Peeking through her fingers, Rosalie chuckled. Her eyes were back to their usual amber color. Borrowed warmth flushed her cheeks.

"I decided to take a break," she said. "A short one. Do you need any help, or…"

Bella couldn't stop the smile that dawned across her face at Rosalie's idea of _taking a break._ Most people would put their feet up, read a book, do as little as possible, but Rose thought it meant looking for a different type of work to occupy her restless hands.

"Sure," Edward said. "The more the merrier. We can turn the couples therapy into a family session."

"Therapy? Are you going to force me to cry all over the place and talk all about how my mother and father ruined my life?"

In over two years of friendship, Bella had never once heard Rosalie mention her parents. Now, Rosalie's voice skipped over them as if they'd never existed. As she painted the pizza dough red with sauce, Bella wondered what those parents had been like. How long ago had they'd lived and died?

Had they really ruined Rosalie's life?

"No crying allowed," Edward said. "I'll thank you to keep your tears and snot away from my batter."

Bella put Rosalie to work chopping mushrooms and onions, the latter of which were strong enough to make Bella's eyes sting from several feet away. At least she wouldn't have to clean the clunky old food processor again, since her friend was there to use a knife.

"Feel free to borrow something out of my closet," Rosalie said, smirking at the telltale smears on Bella's shirt.

Edward shook a butter-coated spoon at the two of them. "And ruin my birthday gift to Jessica? That's just mean."

With a laughing apology to Edward and his handiwork, Bella retreated to Rosalie's closet. Contrary to what she'd previously believed, there was much more than a rainbow of scrubs and a single sun dress inside. In the back, a collection of antique dresses, skirts, and blouses clustered together like a secret. They were simple, without a wasted frill sewn to the practical fabric, but looking at them, Bella could picture Rosalie dancing. She wanted to know the girl Rosalie had been back then—wanted to know if they would've been friends. Passing over the pretty scraps from a different life, Bella chose the top half of a blue set of scrubs. Like almost all of Rosalie's modern clothes, it was huge and baggy, hiding her away beneath the soft drape of cotton.

As she changed, Bella listened through the bathroom door. Edward and Rosalie fell into bickering about something to do with the latter's car. Bella half-expected them to march down to the garage for a duel with wrenches, but by the time she emerged, Edward had shifted gears into teaching mode. A cloud of flour billowed into Rosalie's face as she opened the bag under his instruction. Edward looked entirely too pleased as his cupcake student wiped the white powder from her cheeks and nose.

"If food was more plentiful," Rosalie said, lips pursed against a smile, "I'd throw this at you."

Once they'd created a small pizza and a single raspberry cupcake, they took the miniature feast down to the lab. Jessica and Garrett were already there, hand-in-hand.

"Happy birthday," Rosalie said, kissing Jessica's cheek and giving her a careful hug.

A ruffly pink flower that couldn't have come from Pendleton's snow-choked forests adorned Jessica's hair. As she took her turn to embrace the birthday girl, Bella wondered how far south Garrett had traveled to capture that bit of sun.

"All right," Jessica said, rubbing her hands together. "Is it time for presents?"

It was one of her good days—the sort of day that made her look like the girl she used to be. Her pale skin still clung too close to her bones, but she smiled like she'd never felt pain.

Since Jessica was the closest to childhood, her birthday was the only one they'd ever greeted with any sort of fuss. Bella didn't even know the month of Emmett or Garrett's birthdays. She'd guessed the approximate time of Rosalie's, since the two Aprils she'd spent with the vampires had both seen the arrival of a pot of purple hyacinths, addressed to Rosalie. Upstairs, dozens of the tiny clay pots lined Rosalie's windowsills and the tops of her bookcases. Once, Bella tried to count them, but she kept finding more stashed away on end tables and tucked into corners after she thought she'd gotten them all. Her best estimate was somewhere between seventy and eighty.

Everyone pulled their gifts out of hiding. No pretty paper wrapped them up, but Rosalie had found a white ribbon to tie around the green dress that was a gift from herself and Carlisle. It was new—never worn by anyone else, not sewn with big stitches by clumsy hands.

"Oh, my gosh!" Squealing, Jessica twirled around with the dress held up to her body. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"You're very welcome." Carlisle chuckled. "Wear it in good health."

The ribbon found a new home in Jessica's hair, woven through the braid that trailed down her back. Since she'd been getting chills from sitting in the thin-walled trailer all day, Bella's present was a double-layered blanket that she'd made from well-loved, soft flannel. Next to the crisp cotton of the dress and the fresh petals of the flower, Bella thought it looked shabby, but Jessica's thanks were no less effusive.

"It's so cozy," Jessica said, wrapping it around her shoulders and catching Bella in a hug. "And hey, look! It can double as a cape. I'm well on my way to being a super villain."

Bella grinned. "Yeah, because all super villains wear capes with rainbows and teddy bears."

"Yep. The truly bad ass ones do. It lulls people into a false sense of security."

To occupy her mind during the long hours at home, Jasper and Mary gave Jessica a few books that Bella suspected came from their own libraries. From Edward and Emmett, she received a box of chewy honey candy.

"Don't worry," Emmett said. "Edward did all of the cooking. I just harvested the honey."

Jessica had a piece unwrapped before he finished talking. Through a mouthful of it, she thanked them both. Turning to Bella, she produced what looked like a photo album from the bag Garrett held slung over his shoulder.

"I got you something," she said, her words fighting against the chewiness of the candy.

"Huh?" Bella took the album, its cloth-bound cover rough under her fingertips. "It's _your _birthday."

"Exactly. That means I can do whatever the hell I want. Anyway, it wasn't ready in time for yours, or I would've given it to you then. Garrett has yet to master mind reading, and I apparently suck at describing stuff."

Inside the book, Bella found page after page of pencil sketches—shreds of the life she'd been forced to leave behind in Forks. Gray lines joined together and formed replicas of old photos she'd almost forgotten, showing her and Jessica's faces at the same age, side-by-side. A few had Angela thrown in, the three girls walking with their arms around each other's shoulders. Looking back, it seemed like they'd spent most of the fourth grade in that pose. The last page—a copy of the portrait of Bella and Charlie that used to hang in her living room—blurred and wavered until Bella blinked hard a few times.

As her thumb hovered over Charlie's face, taking care not to smear the precious lines, Edward's hand settled on the small of her back. Charlie would've liked him, Bella thought, and vice versa—as much as her dad _could_ have liked someone she dated.

Charlie never would've become a Raider. Not ever.

"Garrett drew them," Jessica said. "I mean, well, obviously. I can't draw a stick figure. I just described them and told him stuff like, 'No, Charlie's mustache was more _Charlie-ish_,' 'cause I'm helpful like that."

"Thank you," Bella said, sliding it into one of the drawers next to her table. She didn't dare raise her voice above a whisper for fear it would break. "I'll keep it here, to make sure it stays safe."

.

.

Edward sat on Adam's old stool, guarding it from being stolen by anyone else. He'd taken to showing up and walking Bella home at the end of her shift; Jessica's birthday was no exception.

On her way past his seat, Bella ran her fingers over his arm and bent to kiss his cheek. She aimed her feet toward the table in the corner where Mary sat with Renee. Several empty glasses piled in front of them, reflecting their smiles. As Bella got closer, Mary said something that made Renee double over with easy laughter.

The inside of Bella's cheek smarted where she bit into it. There was the smile she remembered from before the Surge, brought back to life by Mary, of all people. Forcing her own lips to curve upward, Bella cleared the empty glasses away.

"So," Renee said, eyebrows raised. "How long have you and Edward been seeing each other?"

"A couple of weeks. It's pretty new."

"He treats you well, though?"

This time, Bella's mouth formed a smile of its own accord. "Yeah."

"He's a good kid," Mary said. "She has far better taste than me. This one woman I dated, in Ohio…"

Bella's retreat to the bar was halted by a late news report flashing across the TV screen. Three local men—alleged Raiders—were missing. Something about their photos struck a familiar chord. Bella squinted, moving closer. Icy suspicion splintered and grew into recognition. Not long ago, she'd seen the dim outlines of those men just a few feet from where she was standing. They were the ones who had given Tom a hard time.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Bella was greeted with a wink from Mary. For a fraction of a second, Mary's eyes shone bright, satisfied red. Bella blinked, and the color flickered back to muddy brown, making her wonder if it was some wild delusion. Begging her heartbeat to slow, she returned to Emmett's side behind the bar.

If Bella was honest with herself, some dark corner of her mind was _glad_ to think of all of the Raiders who had disappeared since Mary and Jasper's arrival. Epitaphs for their tombstones etched across her imagination. _Murderer of thirteen women. Killed a father of five. _In her heart of hearts, she cared less and less if people like that were someone else's Jessica—someone else's Renee.

Maybe she wasn't much better than them, after all.

As she leaned across the bar under the pretense of asking Edward if he wanted another glass of mead, Tom strolled through the front door. His hair stood up in messy spikes, as if he'd rolled out of bed and into the bar.

"Hey," Emmett said, straightening up to his full height. "You're really damn late, even for you."

"Sorry," Tom said. "I overslept. And then, uh, I got some news." Approaching Bella, he lowered his voice, keeping the rest of his words cloaked from the few Raiders who still lingered over their drinks. "They found Adam."

Bella's heart felt as though it jumped into her throat, cutting off her ability to speak. It was Edward who asked, "Who did?"

"Some people living wild." Tom placed a hand on Bella's arm in a clammy attempt at solace. "His body was in Malheur National Forest. I guess he was at some protest in John Day… they don't know any more than that yet. I'm sorry."

His _body_. Bella knew those words, that pitying expression. Some cruel trick of her imagination darkened Tom's features, trading his face for Jake's and putting Charlie's name in his mouth. _We found him in the woods, Bells. I'm so sorry._

"Shit," Emmett said. "Poor guy."

According to Emmett, it was close enough to the end of Bella's shift for her to leave if she wished to do so. Tom could take over her responsibilities. With only a nod in her mother's direction by way of a goodbye, Bella let Edward help her into her jacket, took his hand, and set off toward the trailer.

In the flickering glow of the streetlights, the snow glittered like that glimpse she'd once stolen of Rosalie and Garrett in the sun. Edward squeezed her hand through their gloves. She squeezed back, remembering with a start that Edward and Adam had been friends for the better part of a decade. Losing her favorite customer didn't compare.

"I'm sorry," she said, hating the taste of the platitude on her tongue.

"Me too."

She waited, half-wanting him to launch into stories about Adam—to lighten his burden by sharing it with her, but he remained quiet, staring ahead. Her own memories of Adam surfaced: hundreds of poured drinks and almost-laughs and repetitions of, "Hi, sugar."

"Malheur National Forest," Edward said. "Where is that?"

Bella swallowed, burying the part of her that wanted to tell lies that would absolve her mother. "Between John Day and Burns."

He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. Silence curled up for a long visit. When Edward spoke again, it was hushed—the language of secrets and gazes darting to the shadows.

"I'm not saying I believe Alice is actually psychic," he said. "I don't disbelieve it, either. But suppose she is… why do you think she sent us to Burns?"

Bella managed a shrug. His fingers tightened around hers.

"Maybe it wasn't for some happy family reunion," he said. "The kind of people Renee would've had with her, snooping around for signs of you… Maybe it was for our protection—for _your_ protection. Maybe Alice wanted us to find Renee before she brought her new friends to find us."

Dropping his hand, Bella shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle. "Maybe," she said to the ground.

"Hey, don't—"

She shook her head, rubbing the patches on her jacket. "I'm just cold."

Warm, Edward-scented fabric settled around her shoulders, guided by his hands.

"You can't walk around in just a t-shirt in this weather," she said.

"We're almost there. I'll be fine for a few minutes."

Sliding her arms into the sleeves of his coat, she linked her fingers with his again.

"What would you do?" she asked, keeping her voice even lower than his had been. "If your mom showed up out of nowhere and you found out she was a Raider, what would you do?"

"I wish I knew." The puffs of fog marking his breaths stopped for a few seconds. In the dim light, it made him look like a vampire. "Part of me thinks… I don't know. Maybe I'd prefer to go on thinking she was dead, rather than that."

"Yeah. Makes sense."

Garrett's car squatted in front of the trailer, dusted with an hour's worth of snow. Standing on her tiptoes, Bella offered Edward a light kiss and the return of his jacket. She waited until he headed back down the gravel road before she turned toward the woods. For just a few minutes, she wanted to go back to long days on First Beach—to escape to laughter and her lost boys who would never grow old. If anything happened, Garrett would hear.

When she passed the edge of the trailer park, she started up a quiet version of one of the folk songs that would bring Jake to her side.

"The cruel war is raging. Johnny has to fight. I want to be with him from morning till night."

Breaking into a run as she entered the forest, Bella let the trees and vines envelop her.


	15. And the Rocks Melt Wi' the Sun

_**A/N: **__I failed a bit at review replies for the previous chapter. Sorry if I missed you! I did read and appreciate all of them. Thanks to thimbles for pre-reading this for me, and to you for reading. :) Next update should be March 10th._

* * *

**And the Rocks Melt Wi' the Sun**

Bella held her breath, listening to the woods. Enormous paws padded over snow-crusted leaves and new growth. A smaller, lighter wolf than she expected emerged from the heart of the forest. Even with only the moon as her guide, Bella's weak eyes could make out the sheen of soft gray fur. _Leah_.

The wolf transformed into a human right in front of Bella, not bothered by her own nudity. Some things never changed. Leah's body was leaner than the last time Bella saw her, but still just as strong. Her gaze, like always, didn't settle on Bella for more than a few breaths.

"Everything okay?" Leah asked.

"Yeah. Sorry. I was just hoping to see Jake for a while. Thought he'd be nearby."

"He's out patrolling." As she spoke, Leah shrugged into the tunic she'd tied to her ankle. The timeworn fabric softened the hard lines of her body. When her head emerged through the collar, her face contorted into a grimace. "Ugh. No offense, but I need to stand upwind. Do you always smell like _them_ now?"

"I don't know. Probably." For a few beats of shuffling feet and glances at the ground, Bella let the quiet hang in the air. In a barely-there voice, she added, "How've you been?"

"Oh, just grand. You don't know what you're missing. Living with four guys minus indoor plumbing is quite the experience, let me tell you." Darkness bled out from her bare feet as snow melted into steam, revealing the dirt beneath. "How about you? How's life with the leeches?"

"Oh, just grand," Bella said. "You don't know what _you're_ missing. Living in fear of paper cuts is quite the experience, let me tell you."

Leah laughed—sort of. The quick exhale and faint curve of her lips was the closest thing to amusement Bella had coaxed from her since Sam was still alive. A line of orange trickled across the dark sky, accompanied by the booming laugh of thunder.

"Fuck you, weather," Leah said, glaring up at the stars. "Don't you dare try that again." Steading herself against the thick trunk of a tree, she shook her head and turned her attention back to Bella. "Hey, thanks for the food, by the way. Beats the hell out of raw deer."

Bella nodded. "It's the least I could do."

"Mm." For once, Leah's gaze held steady. "Manage to bake away your guilt yet?"

It was Bella's turn to impersonate laughter. "Getting there."

Something beyond Bella's hearing made Leah's head snap toward the overgrown path to the trailer park. A second shot of rumbling flames overhead lit up the forest. Bella jumped back and covered her ears against the horrible crack of bones as the spark of energy forced Leah back into the form of a wolf. Scraps of fabric fell away, gray fur shimmering along Leah's unwilling body in their place. Only a whimper—half human, half animal—escaped Leah's stubborn lips.

Somewhere behind them, a twig snapped under a boot.

"Run!" Bella whispered to Leah, scrambling for the protection she'd tucked into her ankle holster. The wolf stayed put. "I'll be fine. Just go."

In the snow-hushed forest, a pale figure emerged from the trees. Leah growled. Gasping, Bella lowered her weapon. Edward stood there, pointing the barrel of a gun at Leah's head. Without thinking, Bella jumped between them.

"No!" she said. "Edward, don't."

"What the fuck _is _that? There was a girl, and then…" One of his hands kept the gun on Leah while the other reached out for Bella, long fingers combing through the air. "Sweetheart, please, come over—"

"She won't hurt me." Backing away from him, Bella reached behind herself and stroked Leah's muzzle. The wolf's chin brushed Bella's shoulder, breath hot against her neck. Some of the tightness eased out of her chest as Edward lowered the gun. "See? It's okay."

"It is _so_ not okay." The hand that had been seeking her went to his forehead, pressing hard, as if trying to hold in his panicked thoughts and keep himself on guard. "Look, I'm not going to shoot, but I'd feel a lot better if you weren't so close to its teeth."

Keeping herself between him and Leah, Bella stepped into his embrace. He tried to tug her out of the forest, but she stood her ground, strong legs rooting her to the spot. Another growl came from behind her, close enough to ruffle her hair—close enough to pounce if Edward was deemed a threat.

"It's okay," Bella whispered. "They don't hurt people. They protect them." Kissing his cheek, she let her fingers flutter down to twine together with his. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"I promise we're safe with her. I swear it." Pressing her back against the tense muscles of his chest, she held a hand out to Leah and whistled. "Here, girl."

Had a panicked, gun-toting Edward not been there, Bella knew her comment would have earned her a nudge from Leah that would've sent her tumbling into the snow. As it was, she received the same glare Leah had previously directed at the sky.

When Leah crept forward, Bella brought Edward's free hand up to touch the wolf's neck. The arm locked around Bella's waist kept her so close, she couldn't tell if the rapid thud in her ears was her pulse or his. Beneath their joined hands, Leah's fur felt wiry and rough.

"Is it trained?" Edward asked.

Leah snorted.

"Hardly," Bella said. The word, short as it was, felt good rolling off of her tongue. It took her back to the days when one of her primary hobbies was trading barbs with Leah. Life had been a mess then, too, but a simpler, contained sort of mess. A disordered office, rather than a whole landfill.

Jessica had been lost in those days, though. Adam had been alive, but she hadn't known him. Charlie, Embry, Angela, and Sam had all been there, but not Edward. Not Rosalie or Emmett or Garrett.

A steady arm held Bella's attention to the present. If she had collected more people whose absence would leave a hole in her heart, then her life was all the better for it, mess be damned.

For a little while longer, orange light fizzled and cracked the sky. The soundtrack accompanying the display faded to a series of low growls. Just a minor disturbance. Not a storm. Still, the wolves always felt the surges in energy more than anyone else. Their uncontrollable shifting between forms meant a life sentence of roaming the forest, far from watchful eyes.

Pawing the ground, Leah barked at Edward.

"Told you she wasn't trained," Bella said. Shrugging out of her jacket, she pulled her lumpy sweater over her head and offered it to Leah. The wind cut right through her t-shirt, making her teeth chatter. "Here. In case you want to phase back. And don't worry; he won't tell anyone. I trust him, okay?"

Leah's growl suggested she didn't agree, but she accepted the sweater and escorted them back to the boundary of the forest. Garrett's car had vanished, fresh tire tracks the only indication he'd been there at all. When Bella turned to say goodbye to Leah, her words fell on pawprints in the snow.

"What were you doing in the woods?" she asked as she unlocked her front door.

Edward shrugged. "Looked back and saw you go in. I got worried."

It wasn't until the door swung shut and the lock clicked into place behind them that he put his gun away. Inside the trailer, the washing machine thunked across the kitchen floor as it spun its contents into a state on the drier side of sopping. Garrett must have decided to do housework again.

Jessica lay on the couch, fast asleep in the flickering blue glow of the television. Bella couldn't hold back a cringe at the wasted electricity. After tucking her friend in with two blankets, she led Edward down the dark hall to her bedroom. Instead of sitting down with her on the bed, he stood next to the door as if guarding her from everything outside. The soft flicker of the candle she lit cast long, grotesque shadows on the wall behind him.

"This is an even better second date than disposing of my basement full of bodies, huh?" Bella said with a faltering attempt at laughter. "I terrify you by introducing you to a werewolf. Can't say I don't know how to show a guy a good time."

"Werewolf." Edward stretched the word out, as if his mouth was trying to convince his eyes what they'd just witnessed.

"Yes. You saw it, didn't you? You saw her change. That girl who disappeared? That was her. The wolf." Scooting back and hugging her knees to her chest, Bella gave her words a few moments to sink in. "Remember my friend with the antibodies in his blood that fight MBS?"

A slow nod from Edward set his shadow wavering. Shrugging, Bella looked in the direction of the forest.

"Her?" he said. "You've been injecting me with… werewolf blood? Jesus, that sounds so crazy when I say it out loud."

"Not Leah's. She's not the right type. Paul—"

"There are more of them? How many?"

Pausing, Bella rubbed her trigger finger in a modified version of Rosalie's tell. "Just five, now."

Finally sitting next to her, he ran his hands through his hair. "I'm having trouble wrapping my head around this. Time travel is weird enough. What else is there that I don't know about?" A crease appeared between his eyebrows. "Carlisle… and the others. Are they something different, too?"

"Yes."

"Something dangerous?"

"Potentially, but they're good people." Bella winced. "Just, uh, don't cut yourself in front of any of them. Except Carlisle, maybe. He's safe, I think."

"Why, are they vampires?" His smile waited for her laugh. When it didn't arrive, he added, "You're joking, right?"

"I'm not. And you have to promise me, okay? Promise you won't tell _anyone_. Not about what you saw in the woods. Not about the wolves or the vampires. No one. Not a soul."

"All right. I promise."

Bella let herself go, her voice giving form to the stories she'd kept quiet for so long. She told him how she'd learned about the wolves when Paul phased for the first time right in front of her, his claws almost raking across her arm. How she'd met her first vampires, Tanya and Irina, at an underground anti-Raider gathering in Port Angeles. How Jake and Embry had lectured her about vampires' strength and the laws that governed them, but she'd gone to work with Tanya anyway. How Charlie had died like Adam, alone in a forest. How the Raiders had taken over Forks after her dad was gone.

She told him how the wolves were supposed to protect a Reservation that was no more. How, thanks to the Raiders discovering the wolves' secret, the people the pack had once guarded were scattered across the country. How Jessica learned the truth about the wolves by landing on First Beach and riding to Bella's house on Jake's back. How the storms trapped the wolves in one form or another, resulting Sam's slow death after his little flip through time. How Leah had come up with a theory about how to kill a werewolf quickly, without the aid of a vampire's venom. How Bella had promised she would shoot any of them if they were caught by the Raiders. How she'd kept that promise.

As the final words left her, Bella felt drained. No one, save Jessica and the wolves, knew everything she'd shared with him. The catharsis she'd ached for after her partial confession to Rosalie swooped down, trembling and absolute. She felt hollow and clean, purged of her secrets.

After Edward muddled through the expected questions about holy water, silver bullets, and the like, he stood up again.

"You okay?" Bella asked.

"Not sure."

She knew it had to be a lot to take in, especially piled on top of Adam's death. When he kissed her cheek and ducked out of the trailer with a thin excuse about needing to get some sleep, she didn't object.

.

.

Edward was late. Tapping her pencil against the edge of her table, Bella tried to focus on the blur of numbers she'd taken down. It was no use; the door kept calling her back, begging her to check again. He'd already missed cooking with her, and now she'd been taking readings in the lab for forty-seven minutes with no sign of him. Not that she was counting.

Maybe he'd decided to skip town. It would be a normal response to learning that he was his coworkers' natural prey.

No, he wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to her. Would he? Maybe something had happened on his walk home. She should've asked him to call when he arrived safely.

Scowling, Bella rolled an orange back and forth across the table. She'd picked it up for him on her way past the market that morning—a sweet gift wrapped in bitter skin. When she'd caught it sitting there, unwrinkled and alone, she had to snatch it up. It reminded her of Charlie; he used to find an orange to put in her Christmas stocking every year, without fail. He'd claimed it helped Renee's yellow-painted cupboards to bring the sun to Forks.

Again, Bella's gaze drifted up to the door. Nothing. The anxious, squirming sensation in the pit of her stomach reminded her of being fourteen and waiting for a phone call. Jasper stared at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Bella nodded, relieved he kept his distance while he spoke. She opened her mouth to give him some excuse she hadn't yet invented, but the door _finally_ opened. A man with a familiar head of coppery hair and Technicolor arms appeared at the top of the stairs.

The tiny smile Jasper gave her faded into a bemused frown. Edward's skin was paler than it had been the day before; the dusting of freckles across his nose stood out more than usual. When he put a hand on Bella's arm and bent to greet her with a kiss, his palm felt clammy.

She'd forgotten what it was like—how Jessica had reacted around vampires at first. Bella had never felt that way about them—not even when she met Tanya and Irina in a cramped basement. As Edward lowered himself into what had once been Jessica's chair, Bella offered him the orange and a smile.

"Thanks," he said, his voice hoarse.

"No problem. You okay?"

"Yeah." He looked at her, avoiding everyone else. "I'll be fine."

.

.

Tossing aside the old rag she'd been using to scrub the bar, Bella gave herself a fleeting break by squeezing Edward's shoulder and kissing his cheek. He'd shown up at her second job earlier than usual—_much_ earlier. Adam's old stool had been occupied by him since close to the beginning of her shift. The whole time, he'd watched the vampires as if expecting them to drain her at any second.

Only Mary, Renee, and Bella's new guardian milled around the smoky bar with its employees. As Bella flipped the "closed" sign over, she only half-listened to Tom's rambling about some article he'd read.

"This temporal scientist chick thinks more and more storms are going to start popping up all over around here," he said. "She's saying it has the potential to be another Ithaca."

_That_ caught Bella's attention. She scoffed. "They're always saying that about somewhere or other. A few storms in a row, and they start panicking and throwing Ithaca around."

"Ithaca?" Renee said.

An icy shot of fear ran down Bella's arms, making her fingers itch to clap over her mother's mouth and silence her before she could incriminate herself. At least the drunken Raiders had already stumbled out into the cold, boasting about their plans for the night.

"Yeah," Tom said, drawing the word out as his eyes narrowed. "You know, the epicenter of the Surge? Hit by storms every week for months on end in the late '90s?"

"Obviously." Renee stared at her near-empty glass of mead, two patches of pink appearing on her cheeks. "I just meant you can't be serious, thinking that's going to happen here."

With a roll of his eyes, Tom went back to putting chairs up on the tables. Through her panic, a clear strand of logic nudged the back of Bella's mind.

If the temporal scientist was right—and that was a big _if_—and the sky over Eastern Oregon was building up to something that would rival the first storm, was it their fault? Had their work in the lab caused this?

Thoughts were still swarming in Bella's head when Renee approached her in the kitchen with a crumpled piece of paper a few minutes later. The smudged drawing wasn't quite right. It bore all the evidence of being one of Garrett's first tries—the sketches in which Bella's younger face wasn't Bella-ish enough or Charlie's mustache wasn't suitably Charlie-ish, according to Jessica. Even so, the identities of the girls walking arm-in-arm down a stretch of beach were obvious. Their not-quite-perfect faces also clearly belonged to two teenagers.

Snatching the paper out of Renee's grasp, Bella shoved it into her pocket, as if hiding it away in her jeans would hide it forever from the rest of the world.

"Where did you get this?" Bella asked.

"She's a time traveler, isn't she?"

"_Where did you get this?_ Were you snooping in Garrett's office? You have no right—"

"What are you involved with, Bella? Who _are_ these people? They shelter time travelers, make medicine for Margaret Brown's—don't think I don't know where you got that stuff. Do you have any idea how dangerous—"

"Yes, I do. I know _exactly_ how dangerous the Raiders are." Clenching her fists, Bella swallowed accusation after accusation. The quick heat of anger loosened her tongue, coaxing it to say the words that clawed through her mind. "Did you… Adam Davis. Does that name mean anything to you?"

Renee caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I don't know. Should it? It's a pretty common name."

"He was killed. By Raiders." She didn't know that to be entirely true, but in her mind, the murder trial had already been carried out. They had to be the guilty party. She knew it as surely as she knew they'd killed Charlie, evidence or no evidence. "And for what? He wasn't a time traveler, as far as I know. The worst thing he ever did was drink too much."

Folding her arms across her chest, Renee let the corners of her mouth droop into a frown. "You sure about that? How well did you know him? How well do you know any of these people?"

"A lot better than I know you."

"And that's my fault? If you don't know me, it's because you don't want to—because you stopped trying as soon as you saw this." Red flashed in front of Bella's eyes as Renee pointed to the arm band. "The past two years… You have no idea. I had to survive somehow. I did what I had to do to get by."

"I have no idea? I've been fighting to survive in this world _ten times_ as long as you have. Trust me; I have a damn good idea." Closing her eyes, Bella the caged words free. "I think you should leave. This isn't working. I can't have you here if you're going to invade my friends' privacy. I just… I'm glad you're alive and well, but I can't trust you. I'm sorry."

Renee didn't say a word. She didn't protest, didn't beg Bella to escape with her. In so many ways, it was worse than a big scene. As Bella watched her mother pack up her few belongings and leave without a goodbye, part of her hated Alice for orchestrating their reunion. She wanted the lie back—the delusion that her mother died on a sunlit street twenty years ago, still beautiful and kind.

The door didn't slam behind Renee. It creaked shut on its own time, ending their connection with a whisper of cold air.

"Do you want me to take care of it?" Mary asked.

Bella jumped. She hadn't noticed Mary's approach. Of course, the vampires would have heard every word of the argument. Mary stood too still and quiet for a human as she waited for Bella's answer. Her transformation into a living statue felt like some sort of test.

"_No_." Bella wiped a hand down her face. "God, no. Just… could you follow her, please? Make sure she leaves town."

Mary nodded, her blond curls bouncing. "We should do the same, you know. Should have a long time ago."

"Yeah. I know."

"It'll work out. We'll start packing tomorrow and go to one of our other offices. Rose can be persuaded to relocate."

Bella wrinkled her nose. "Do you really think so?"

"No." Mary's bell-like laugh rang too loud and too genuine. "Not at all, but we'll get her there somehow. I'll steal her car if I have to. That'll make her chase me to the new place." For the first time, she touched Bella—a chilly brush of the hand. "We aren't all such sticklers. Tanya and Irina had some bad experiences. Made them unwilling to bend the rules." She winked. The red was back, haloing her pupils and pointing to her true nature. This time, brown didn't come along to chase it away. "I won't tell if you won't."

With that, she followed Renee.

.

.

"And then she left," Bella said. "But you saw that part."

"Yeah. I did." Edward's lips brushed over her forehead. The dip in the middle of Bella's mattress captured both them, pushing them even closer together. "Listen, that stuff I said about her yesterday…"

"You were right."

"Well. I'm sorry I was right, then."

His fingertips made a slow, tickling circuit from her hip to her shoulder and back again. Tangling her legs together with his, Bella traded her thin pillow for his chest. With her ear pressed over his heart, she rose and fell with each of his steady breaths. It was like floating in a warmer, calmer version of the only ocean she'd ever known, letting each wave carry her wherever it pleased.

"She was different before," Bella said. "When I was little, she used to cross her fingers every time she heard an ambulance siren. She said it was for luck—for whoever needed the ambulance. I still do it. Maybe I don't remember her clearly, since I was so young, but I don't know. The mom I knew was gentle and compassionate. Not like her at all."

"She might find her way back to the person she used to be. You never know." The ocean stalled, then restarted with a long sigh. "Adam used to be a Raider."

"What?" The word left Bella in a squeaking whisper, yanking itself from her lips without her consent.

"It was during the early days, right after the Surge. He was, I don't know… fifteen, sixteen, maybe? Just a scared kid trying to fight back against things he didn't understand. He didn't tell me about it until I'd known him for years. He was so ashamed of what he'd done, but back when he was actually _doing_ it, he thought it was the right thing. Maybe something similar will happen to your mom, someday. She'll realize how wrong she's been."

"But she doesn't think she's doing the right thing. She thinks she's saving her own ass."

"Then maybe she'll learn to do what's right, rather than what's easy." Rolling over so they were facing each other, he cupped her face between his hands. "If she hadn't screwed things up, she could've had a pretty good teacher." He grinned. "I mean, being with me can't be easy."

In spite of herself, Bella laughed. "But it's right?"

"Are you asking or telling? Careful how you answer; my ego is fragile."

"Uh huh. Fragile. Sure it is."

Slow, slow kisses landed on her lips, several breaths stretching out between each one. Bella tugged his shirt over his head, pressing a kiss above one rosy patch on his chest, then the other. Catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her head up.

"It can't be easy," he whispered.

Bella knew she should have felt the weight of those words drop onto her shoulders. Instead, she felt light and reckless and brave.

"Yes, it is," she said.

As warm lips met hers once more, shaking fingers pulled at her clothes. Kisses explored each new area of bared skin: her breasts, her belly, her knees. She put her hands to work discovering his body in return, adding his clothes to the pile on the floor. Urging her to lie back, Edward trailed his mouth along her inner thigh. He moved higher, and suddenly she was the one who was trembling.

It had been so long since she'd been touched like this—so long since she'd felt vulnerable in that dizzying, giddy sort of way instead of thanks to fright. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she gave herself over to it, let him burn her thoughts away until she was reduced to breath and touch and the words _don't stop_. And then she soared, falling over the edge, fingers tangling in his hair. A bite of her lip trapped the sounds that teased the back of her throat.

Rubbing his jaw through a smug grin, Edward scooted up along the bed until they lay nestled together like spoons. Lethargy descended on Bella, but stubbly kisses along her shoulder and a hand slipping between her legs quieted the siren call of sleep. Some fumbling, a hushed laugh, and a shift of Edward's hips, and she had to push her face into her pillow. They needed to be quiet, she knew, to avoid waking the sleeper in the next room. Slow movements, whispered requests. Each creak of the bed barely reached her ears over the moans he muffled against her neck. His arms tightened around her, a single, louder groan escaping him. Through his gasping breaths, the kisses along her shoulder turned lazy and drawn out. Bella smiled.

"If this counts as a third date, I'd say it went considerably better than the second one," she said, wriggling around on the narrow bed until they were face-to-face again.

Edward let out a breathy chuckle. "Definitely. We should make a note of it for the future. Less werewolves, more nudity." One of his fingers trailed between her breasts, chasing a bead of sweat. "You know, sometimes..."

"Sometimes what?" she asked as his voice faded into a murmur.

He cleared his throat. "I don't know." His gaze followed the path of his fingertip, never coming close to looking at her face. "Sometimes I think maybe it makes sense for me to be here. With you. Instead of back in my own time."

Bella absolutely had to kiss him—that instant—but a noise from down the hall made her freeze. Coughing, choking sobs filtered through the thin walls and propelled her out of bed. Yanking a t-shirt on over her head, she ran to Jessica's room. Edward followed close behind, Bella's quilt wrapped around his waist.

Jessica sat in the middle of her bed, tears streaming down her face as blood spurted from her mouth. Each time a cough seized her body, red blossomed across the handkerchief she pressed to her lips. A dark-eyed Garrett knelt in front of her, utterly lost. Bella allowed herself only a fraction of a second to wonder how long he'd been there as she rifled through a drawer for a syringe.

At the sight of Garrett in the presence of so much of Jessica's blood, Edward's face drained of color. He clenched his fists. Even in his ridiculous, quilted armor, he looked like a warrior, ready to fight if necessary, no matter the odds. Beyond Garrett's eye color, the vampire showed no hint of losing control.

"Edward," he said, "will you please call Carlisle?"

"And Rose," Bella said. She was through waiting. She would ask her to change Jessica tonight. Mary already knew that Bella recognized them for what they were. It was time.

As a reluctant Edward went to the front of the trailer to carry out their requests, Jessica's shoulders shook with a fresh torrent of sobs.

"I'm sorry," she said to Garrett. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry." A trickle of blood punctuated each sentence.

"Hey," Garrett whispered. "Shh. None of that. What do you need?"

"Stay." The whimpered request made her tears flow faster. "With me."

He swallowed hard. "Always."

"I'm so sorry."

"Shh. Stop it."

Bella's hands disobeyed her. She had to force a few deep breaths into her lungs before she could make her fingers stay steady long enough to inject Jessica with some of Jake's blood. After it was done, she climbed onto the bed and wrapped her arms around her weeping friend.

"Bella?" Jessica said with a sniffle as Jake's blood began to dam the flow of hers.

"Yeah?"

"Uh. Are you wearing any underwear or shorts or anything? Or are you just, like, letting it all hang out under that shirt?"

A laugh fought its way out of Bella's mouth. "Jesus, Jess."

"I mean, I love you for rushing to console me and patch me up when you clearly had more interesting things to be doing, but, y'know… _awkward_."

Bella couldn't speak. She didn't know whether she would collapse in hysterical laughter or tears if she tried. When she squeezed Jessica tighter, she received a hug in return instead of any objections.

"Carlisle is on his way," Edward said as he shuffled back into the room. "Rose wasn't there, but he said the others will send her down as soon as she gets back."

Not there. Perhaps that was better. The only other place she was likely to be was hunting in the woods. She'd be ready.

Jessica pulled away from Bella, her head tilting to one side as she stared at Edward's bare chest.

"Bella," she said, "you have so very much to tell me later. I hope you took pictures."

Managing a smile, Edward said, "I didn't notice any cameras, but she could always describe it to Garrett and have him sketch—"

"Don't give her ideas," Garrett said.

Jessica's giggles made her cough start up again. Garrett moved to the corner of the room and braced his hands against the dingy wood paneling. As far as Bella could tell, he'd stopped breathing. Edward stood between them, facing Garrett.

After what felt like hours, Carlisle swept into the trailer, calm as ever. As he examined Jessica, Bella wondered if anything could ruffle him, or if he always kept up the same placid expression, no matter what.

"Do you still think there's hope?" she whispered to him once Jessica was cleaned up and dozing in Garrett's arms. The fumes from the bleach she'd used for the handkerchief, bedding, and floor clawed at her throat, turning her voice thick and scratchy.

And just like that, she found a crack in Carlisle's exterior. His lips pressed into a frown as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It's… becoming increasingly unlikely. Her condition is deteriorating. I'm not certain how much longer the blood will help. She seems to be developing a tolerance to it. We'll do all we can."

Bella wanted to scream at his back as he walked away from her—to rant and cry, "_No_," like a child. Only Edward's arm, wrapping around her from behind, kept her there.

"What do you need?" he asked.

_Rose_, she thought.

"Will you stay?" she said.

"Of course." An imitation smile flashed at her over her shoulder. "Always."

Bella squeezed his arm. "Hey, did you overhear Garrett talking to Jess? Are you stealing his lines?"

"Well, he _is_ pretty smooth." Glancing at Jessica's open door, he frowned. "Are they going to be okay with her?"

Bella nodded. Hand-in-hand, they retreated to her room. Before they lay down together under the covers, Bella propped her door open so she could listen for Rosalie's arrival or more cries from Jessica.

"Considering everything that comes along as part of the deal," she said, "it can't be easy to be with me, either."

The lips that touched hers in the dark were curved up in a sad smile. She knew Edward's answer before he gave it, but she still wanted to hear the words.

"Yes, it is."


	16. Fly Away Home

_**A/N: **__Sorry about the late update! Real life is stealing all of my writing time lately. Thanks for sticking with me, and, of course, to thimbles for pre-reading for me. The next update is probably going to take a little longer than usual. I'm going to aim for April 7th._

* * *

**Fly Away Home**

Rosalie arrived with the sun, ducking into the trailer just before the light sneaked over the horizon and set her sparkling. The clang of the screen door startled Bella out of a light, troubled sleep. Her efforts to pry herself from beneath Edward's heavy arm met with grumbles and snores. A few prods to his ribs and some well-placed cold feet against his shins did the trick; he flopped onto his back, freeing her as he claimed the whole bed with a starfish pose.

By the time Bella padded to the front of the trailer, Carlisle was there, talking in low tones with Rosalie. They stood with barely room for a breath to squeeze between them. Bella's weaker ears caught only the end of their conversation.

"You're not, are you?" Rosalie asked.

"No. As I told you before, Emmett was my last."

Conflicting expressions flickered across Rosalie's face, like she was swinging between hot and cold, between blood and venom. As he tilted her chin up with a curled finger, Carlisle smiled at her—not the gentle smile Bella was used to receiving from him. This one was a warm secret. Rosalie's eyes fluttered shut. She leaned into the kiss he pressed to her cheek.

Frowning, Bella contemplated clearing her throat. Carlisle moved before she got a chance. On his way back to Jessica's room, he paused at Bella's side and patted her shoulder.

Rosalie wiped her cheeks as he left, as if she thought she was crying. When Bella crossed the room to stand before her, fingers unmarked by tears brushed the hair back from Bella's face with a mother's touch.

"How are you doing?" Rosalie asked.

Bella didn't mean to let it out, but a sob ripped its way up her throat, answering for her. Chilly arms gathered her close, accompanied by the _shh, shh_ noises of soothing a child and the familiar, light floral scent that followed Rosalie everywhere. Through hiccups and tears, Bella whispered a confession.

"I know what you are."

Rosalie's entire body tensed. She backed away, holding Bella at arm's length. Her answer escaped on a sigh.

"I know you do."

"Then fix her." Sniffles chased the plea. "Save her. Please."

After opening and closing her mouth a few times, Rosalie said, "If you really knew what it meant, you wouldn't want that for her."

The breath Bella had been holding came out in a long exhale, leaving her feeling deflated. "Knew what it meant?" she asked. "You've smelled the wolves on me. I know you have. You can guess their opinion of you. Rest assured, I've been given the 'death is better' lecture many, many times. It's bullshit. You still breathe and love and live. That has to be better than being gone forever."

Rosalie's trigger finger tapped the knuckle of her missing pinkie. "You have no idea. You can't, no matter what Jacob Black has told you. He shouldn't have said anything. It violates our treaty." Shaking her head as if trying to rid herself of hard-won knowledge, Rosalie took Bella's hand. Her icy fingers squeezed Bella's almost to the point of pain, like she thought she could get her point across with brute force. "I don't even know if I can, given how much she smells like a wolf. And this life… you can't imagine the lengths I've gone to, trying to escape—"

"Stop telling me what I can and can't comprehend." A wobble in Bella's voice betrayed her. She hated it for making her sound weak. "If you won't do it, I'll ask someone else. I will _never_ stop fighting for that girl."

Rosalie's grip gentled. "Neither will I."

Silence. Pacing toward the window, Rosalie stepped into a sunbeam. The sparkle that bounced off of her skin wasn't as beautiful as Bella remembered. Now, she saw something hard and unyielding. Looking down at her own crossed arms, she watched miniature rainbows march across her skin: borrowed pieces of light.

"When Carlisle changed me," Rosalie said on the tail of a bitter laugh, "I wanted to die. I loved him far more than Jessica loves me. He was… he was my dearest friend, but that didn't save him from my resentment after I woke up to this life. If it can be called that. I couldn't bear it if Jessica felt that way about me."

Bella's hands ached with the urge to shatter the way Rosalie viewed the situation—to transform the mirror into a lens.

"_I_, _me_, _mine,_" Bella said. "Are you listening to yourself? This isn't about you. It's about Jessica."

"You're one to talk. Have you even discussed this with her? Are you sure becoming a vampire is what she wants, or have you only considered how _you_ will feel when she's gone?"

Looking past Rosalie to the world beyond the window, Bella let her shoulder sag. "You won't even consider it?" she asked.

Another tap of Rosalie's blank knuckle followed a shuffle of her feet. "My decision isn't likely to change, but I will think about it. That's the most I can offer you."

Bella would take it. Before that scrap of hope could be torn away, she fled down the narrow hall. Jessica was still asleep, but upon peeking in at Edward, Bella found him awake. He grinned at her from a sleepy-sweet tangle of sheets, messy hair, and freckled skin.

"Question of probability for you," he said, reaching for her thigh as she neared the bed. He was fever-warm from huddling beneath the covers. "If I manage to get rid of my morning breath, what are the odds of you getting back in here with me?"

Bella managed a chuckle. "Slim to none, but I wish they were much higher."

"Damn. I was afraid of that."

As he sat up, the quilt fell to his waist. Bella bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to keep her expression neutral while her heart raced out of control and a lump rose in her throat. Three new lesions crowded around the first two. Had she not noticed them the night before, or had they crept onto his skin when she let her guard down and slept?

Grabbing some ointment and snapping on a pair of gloves, Bella silenced Edward's protests by straddling his lap. One after the other, each lesion received a dab of ointment and a loose dressing of gauze. While she worked, her eyes watering from the fumes, Edward's hands wandered over the paths they'd explored the night before. She let them.

"I'm gonna miss couples therapy if I fall back asleep," he said through a yawn.

"It's okay. We have to move on, anyway. Can't stay here now that Renee knows too much. No point in making more food that we can't take with us."

She would have to find Jake once she knew where they were headed. At least one person would be glad to see the end of their time in Pendleton. Jake had wanted to leave it behind for months.

Edward murmured something, but it was lost as he placed a dozy kiss between Bella's breasts. She helped him lie back, sending him to sleep with a handful of kisses and an order to help himself to some breakfast when he woke.

.

.

Nothing in Jessica's room was safe from Bella's dust cloth. Soap and water became her new route to meditation as she tried to scrub away the staleness of convalescence. Jessica sat on the bed, right in the eye of the Hurricane Bella, poking at the lumpy oatmeal she'd been given for breakfast.

"Sorry," Bella said. "We're out of sugar. I meant to get some honey from Emmett yesterday, but it slipped my mind."

Less than half of the gluey mess made it into Jessica's mouth. When Bella approached with the ointment, Jessica said, "I've spent enough time sleeping. I want to stay awake."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bella placed a hand on Jessica's cheek. The skin there felt papery and fragile, like Jessica had aged seventy years since they first came to Pendleton. Bracing herself, Bella choked out a suggestion she hoped Rosalie could hear.

"You could become a vampire."

Jessica stared up at the lines of dingy white plastic flowers with screws for eyes that studded the sagging ceiling. Bella's vision flickered to the past, providing an image of a healthy girl with a layer of baby fat climbing on wobbly chairs and drawing vines and leaves to cheer up the water stains above her closet. The windows had been cranked open, music blaring, wind and sun rushing in like they'd hitched their new home to the back of Bella's truck and had taken it on the road. Bouncing on the bed because there was no one to tell her it wasn't a trampoline, Jessica had laughed until Bella felt like laughing with her.

"Eighteen years isn't enough," Jessica said, banishing her own ghost and bringing Bella back to the present. "Barely a minute if you ask Garrett, but I've managed to fit a lot of beauty into that minute. A lot of laughter." With a bony elbow, she gave Bella a nudge. "A lot of you."

The slight curve of Bella's lips prompted Jessica to say, "Aha. See? I knew getting all sappy and mushy would coax a smile out of you."

"Jess—"

"I'm not saying no, but I'm not saying yes, either. It's not exactly a decision I can take back. If I do it, people _will _die because of me. You know they will. I might not even remember the best parts of my life. I might forget my parents and you and Angela and Garrett and Mike… don't make that face. You loved him too, and you know it. Just let me think about it a little longer, okay?"

How much longer could she need? If the situation was reversed, Bella knew what she would do. Especially when taking Garrett—and Garrett's heart—into consideration.

Instead of saying any of this, Bella nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

.

.

At the lab, Bella found only Emmett puttering around at human speed, packing gizmos and stacks of files into boxes. Bit by bit, their work was vanishing inside brown cardboard. Satan's Dildo had been switched off, leaving the place as quiet as Surge Memorial Day.

Even when everything else was upside down, Emmett was ever-steady and constant. Watching him from the bottom of the stairs, Bella wondered why she hadn't gone to him first.

"If Jessica asked you to change her into a vampire, would you?" she asked.

"Yes," he said without a drop of hesitation. Only after his word was given did he rock back onto his heels and draw his lower lip into his mouth. "That's more Carlisle's sort of thing, though. I, err, don't have his restraint."

This, Bella knew, was why she'd chosen Rosalie. It was a question of control.

"I trust you more," she said.

Emmett beamed at her.

"Good answer," he said. "What about Garrett, though? He'd change her right now, if she said the word." One of his big hands rubbed the back of his neck. "He's changed someone before, at least. I never have. I'm not sure I could stop once I started."

"But you'd try?"

"As long as you promised not to hate me too much if I failed? You bet."

Hugging him felt like running into a wall; Bella's arms got carried away and put too much force behind it. Holding his breath, he gave her a peck on the cheek.

"I hear we're going to have to skip town," he said as she pulled away.

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Nah. It's time. You should pack up anything you want from here and the bar tonight. We'll get you fragile types out of town as soon as possible. Carlisle and Garrett will probably go with you, I guess."

"Fragile types? Should I be offended by that?"

Emmett's usually infectious grin wasn't as wide as normal; only the dimple on his left cheek made an appearance. "You're human. Compared to us, yeah, you're fragile. Pretty sure I've heard Carlisle call your kind 'soap bubbles' before."

There was something about the way he said Carlisle's name that reminded Bella of Rosalie's tell: a curl of his lips, a flat tone in his voice. She wondered what their history was. When had Emmett shouldered his way in between Rosalie and her "dearest friend?" Rather than pester Emmett about his history, Bella asked about someone else's.

"What happened to Tanya and Irina that made them so afraid to break your rules?"

"Ah. Well. Their mother broke a pretty important rule a long time ago. The Volturi—you know who they are?"

"I can guess."

"Yeah. So, the Volturi executed her. And then Tanya and Irina's sister, Kate, got into some trouble. That was a lot more recent. In the late '90s. There was this human guy she liked. She tried to save him from a falling tree during a storm. There were people around. The sun was out. You can guess the rest."

Bella could, indeed. Grabbing an empty box, she began filling it with the scraps of her life from the lab.

"I wanted to talk to you about, y'know, the whole _vampire_ thing ages ago, but Rose wanted to be able to keep you as blameless as possible, in case any of us ran into Aro," Emmett said. "He's sort of the leader of the Volturi. Old friend of Carlisle's—emphasis on the _old_. He can read minds. And he's an asshole."

Turning the scrapbook from Jessica and Garrett over in her hands, Bella drew her eyebrows together. "What should I do if I ever meet him?"

"Run."

.

.

Jake greeted Bella when she arrived the trailer, pacing from the kitchen to the living room and back again instead of taking up the whole couch like he usually did.

"Hey," she said as she double-checked the closed curtains and the lock on the door. "I was just about to go find you. We have to m—"

A laugh from him cut her off: a hard noise, edged in something she'd never heard from him before.

"Strangest thing," he said, digging a hand into his pocket. "Leah was bringing your sweater back. Jess started coughing blood everywhere when she came in, so Leah tried to help. Here, catch."

A vial spun through the air and bounced off of Bella's fingertips. Deep red splattered across the yellow and avocado green pattern of the worn linoleum, laced with a shimmer of broken glass.

"Guess whose scent Leah found on that," Jake said.

"I—"

"One thing. I asked you not to do this _one thing_. I told you I didn't want the leeches anywhere near our blood."

Cheeks burning, Bella dropped her chin to her chest. "Why does it even matter? It's not like they're going to get a taste for you. They think you smell awful."

"It matters because you promised me. Because even though you like to think they're your friends and they play nice with you, every last one of them is a killer." Heat rolled off of him, slamming into Bella as he stepped closer. "Because I do not want them analyzing me—my blood—in that fucking lab."

Words hammered at the back of Bella's teeth, demanding to be let out—to tell Jake he was overreacting. She knew how well_ that _would go over. Pushing her hair back, she closed her gritty, tired eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Carlisle was our best shot. I know it's not what you want to hear, but if I had it to do over again, I'd make the same choice." Edging past him, she looked toward the back of the trailer. "Is Jess okay?"

Something in the set of his shoulders and the clenching of his jaw softened, if only a little. "I think so, for now. But Bells, I don't think she's going to—"

"Yeah. I know."

The last thing she needed was to hear that diagnosis again. A sigh from Jake's lips carried him halfway back to his normal self.

"Are they going to try to change her?" he asked.

Something like a laugh rose inside Bella. "Rosalie shares your opinion on that. She won't do it."

"Huh." With a step closer to her, Jake rubbed a hand through his uneven hair. It looked like he'd cut it with a knife again. "Well, hell."

She didn't tell him of her conversation with Emmett. No point in giving him an excuse. In a quaking voice, she told him about their plan to leave for somewhere unknown.

"We've been talking about moving on, too," he said, averting his eyes. "If you ever need us, come to Yellowstone."

The words fell past Bella, like they were something physical that could slip through her fingers and paint new patterns on the floor. This couldn't be happening. Jake couldn't leave. The boy she grew up with would never discard her over a few vials of blood. This was what they did: they fought and made up and fought again, just like any brother and sister.

Then again, a few hours ago, he probably would have said that she would never break a promise to him. Neither of them were what they used to be.

"So it's like that?" she said.

"Yeah. It's like that."

"What about the others? They aren't even going to say goodbye? Where's Seth?"

Jake's gaze slid away again. Funny. He used to hate it when Sam used an Alpha Order on him. It was easier than Bella had ever expected for people to become the things they once detested.

"What about Edward?" she asked. "He didn't do anything wrong, and Paul's—"

"If you ever need us, come to Yellowstone. Edward and Jessica are welcome. The leeches aren't."

.

.

In the alley behind the bar, Tom flicked his cigarette butt onto the ground and smashed it beneath his toe. Stale smoke wafted around Bella as he exhaled. Nostalgia made it sweeter. Working with him had never been a joy, but this night would be goodbye. He had no idea.

"I have to tell you something," he said, catching her elbow as she turned to go back in.

"Yeah? Go ahead."

"Promise you won't say anything to anyone else?"

Wide, watery blue eyes stared into hers as his grip tightened. Thinking he was about to confess to being in trouble with the Raiders or similar, Bella nodded.

"The Feds should be showing up here soon," he said.

"What? Why?"

"I kinda called them. Emmett and Garrett's friend… Lydia or whatever. Sent them a picture of her."

The fake name they'd given him for Renee had been Olivia, but Bella didn't correct him.

"Come on," Tom said, his eyebrows shooting up. "Didn't you see her face when we were talking about Ithaca? It was so obvious."

He crossed his arms, almost smiling, like he'd solved some fantastic puzzle.

"Tom, please tell me you didn't."

There wasn't enough air in the alley. Every breath Bella took was thin and cold, laced with the stench of the dumpster. She wanted to hit Tom harder than she'd ever hit anything—hard enough to shoot back through time and shut his mouth.

"Why are you so upset?" he asked. "She's just a Raider."

"She's my _mother_, you asshole."

No point in hiding it now. Tom's face fell.

"Oh, shit," he said. "Are you serious? I didn't… If I would've known…" He lifted his hands, palms facing her. "I know it probably doesn't make it any better, but for what it's worth, I haven't said a word to anyone about Jessica."

White noise. Everything became muffled and static and _nothing_ against the backdrop of that name falling from his lips at that moment.

"What?" Bella forced her dry mouth to say. Her feigned confusion felt as convincing as a post-Surge movie about utopia. "What are you talking about?"

"That's why I was trying to warn you. You might want to call her and tell her to stay hidden for a bit. When I was at your place, I kind of found… I mean, I suspected, anyway, but—"

A smack shoved the rest of his words back down his throat, made him swallow his explanation. For one thundering beat of her heart, Bella stared at the pink outline of her hand on his cheek. Tom's hand shot out, delivering a return blow that made her teeth clamp down on her tongue. The metallic taste of blood leaked into her mouth. Bella's stomach churned.

When the bar door creaked open, Bella wanted to see anyone but Jasper standing there. Pressing her lips together, she fought to swallow the blood—to wipe the scent from the air. Jasper went too silent and too still for a human, his eyes darkening.

"Go home," he said in a strangled voice. "Slow. Don't run."

Bella obeyed. Her cheek and hand stung, hot against the chilly air. She didn't think of looking back—not even when she imagined too-quick footsteps gaining on her.

Leave it to Tom to fall for that "turn time travelers in for everyone's good" nonsense. If he hadn't spared Jessica from his report, Bella thought she would have grabbed her gun instead of smacking him.

Ducking through alleys and down side streets, she kept her eyes open for white cars with blue stripes—a bigger threat than Jasper. She didn't have far to go before she found one. A man in the white and blue uniform of a Fed stood next to such a car, showing stolen photographs of Bella and Renee to Mrs. Harris. One of his leaflets had escaped into the alley, bobbing in a puddle at Bella's feet. The pictures were from Charlie's house: the sources of Garrett's sketches, dimmed by Xerox. The Fed's face was as familiar as the ones that shot Bella faded smiles from the folded photocopy.

_Isaac Weber_. Isaac, who had seen dozens of pictures of Renee. Isaac, who used to run with Raiders. Isaac, who would know Bella and Jessica with a glance. Isaac, who could tell everyone who she really was.

"Sorry, no," Mrs. Harris said. "I don't recognize either of them."

Bless her. Bella had been buying eggs and milk from Mrs. Harris almost as long as she'd been in Pendleton.

Sticking to the shadows, Bella craned her neck to get a better view of Isaac. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked like a replica of his father, gentled by his mother's smile. Back in their rain-soaked forest, he'd been stuck in that gawky, halfway point between childhood and adulthood. While Bella had been running and hiding, he'd been busy growing up.

Her fingers twitched toward her gun. As she took aim, she tried to make herself harder, to force hatred down her arms and into the trigger. He deserved it. He did, no matter if he let her go—no matter if he was Angela's baby brother.

Thinking back on all of the epitaphs she'd imagined for Mary and Jasper's victims, Bella tacked new information onto the end. _Beloved brother. Cherished son._ The sharp, sour taste of bile flooded into her mouth. Everything around her looked shapeless and gray.

Even if Isaac attacked her, Bella didn't know if she could make her stiff fingers squeeze the trigger. It would be no mercy killing—not like anything she'd ever done before. The air between them played tricks on her mind, wavering and cracking like a storm, making the years between them dissolve until all she saw was the scared kid who defied his red arm band and set her free.

His car door opened. Bella lowered the gun. It took her a moment to recognize the little girl who climbed out of the backseat. _Jessica_. Not Bella's Jessica, but her namesake: the tiny part of Angela and Ben that still lived.

Oh, God, when did she get so big? Bella understood, now, why Sue Clearwater used to say she was going to stack bricks on Bella's head to keep her from growing up so fast. In Bella's mind, this tall, skinny kid was supposed to be a toddler.

She looked so much like Angela.

"Thought I told you to stay in the car," Isaac said.

Sweeping the little girl up into his arms, he blew a raspberry on her cheek. She giggled and gave his shoulders a shove. With that, Bella sneaked away. She had to force her legs to move. In spite of the danger, in spite of everything that had happened, some foolish part of her wanted to stay and watch—to steal more glimpses of the babies she used to bounce on her knee.

Gaining momentum, she sprinted down icy sidewalks. In the places where the snow hadn't been salted or shoveled, she darted into the road. She couldn't slip now. She had to get Jessica and Edward, had leave right away. Her lungs ached. Dry air burned her raw throat. The run home was a long one, but she didn't dare go back to the bar to borrow Garrett's car. Not with Jasper there.

With half a mile remaining between her and the trailer, red and blue lights flickered across the dirty snow. Sheriff Ashby's car rolled to a stop next to her. Ignoring every instinct she had, Bella stopped and waited for him to get out. There was nowhere to hide.

"Isabella Swan?" he said.

Everything froze. Bella thought it was cold before, but that was nothing. Before Sheriff Ashby called her _Isabella_, her surroundings had been practically tropical.

"No," she said—tried to say.

"Bella." His shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath. "Honey, come on. I'm gonna have to take you in. You're under arrest for the murder of Embry Call."


	17. We All Fall Down

_**A/N: **__Thank you all for your patience while I finished this. :) I__'m not sure, exactly, when the next update will be posted, since I'm going on holiday at the end of this week. I promise I'll get it up as soon as possible once I get home._

_In case you haven__'t already seen it, I wrote a companion one-shot for this fic that focuses on Garrett/Jessica, called __**Forget how to Fly**__. The events in that fic only go up to the beginning of this chapter, so there aren__'t any spoilers for anything you haven't read._

_Thank you to thimbles for being an amazing prereader, and to all of you for being amazing readers. :) I owe quite a few of you review replies, I know. I read all of the reviews and appreciate them so much, even when I don__'t have the time to respond._

_It__'s been a while, so how about another summary of the story so far?_

_Bella has been living in Pendleton, Oregon for the past two years, working at a lab that (illegally) studies the energy that makes time go topsy-turvy during storms. She__'s been trying to save the lives of Jessica and Edward, both of whom have Margaret Brown Syndrome: a terminal illness that most, if not all, human time travelers develop. Bella had to leave Forks because she shot and killed Embry when he was captured by Raiders. The wolves are affected by the storms; they get stuck in their human or wolf forms and cannot phase. Unfortunately, the Raiders witnessed this at some point in the past and lumped the wolves in the same category as time travelers. After Sam's long, painful death at the hands of the Raiders, Bella promised the wolves that if they were caught while trapped in human form, she'd kill them to save them from torture. Up until very recently, Jake and Paul have been donating their blood to help relieve Jessica and Edward's symptoms. The wolves left town when Jake discovered Bella had been giving his blood to Carlisle to study against Jake's wishes. Bella's mother—another time traveler—was reunited with her thanks to a note from Alice. Upon arriving in the present, Renee had joined up with the Raiders (a group of people who round up those who have been pulled through time and execute them, as they believe those people are to blame for what has happened to the world) in order to survive. Renee and Bella also parted ways after Tom, Bella's coworker at the bar run by Emmett and Garrett, turned Renee in to the Feds (who don't execute time travelers, but lock them up and run experiments on them). When we last left Bella, she'd just seen Angela's brother, Isaac Weber: a former Raider turned Fed who let her go when he caught her running from the scene of Embry's death back in Forks. Sheriff Ashby—Tom's father—found Bella running home and arrested her for Embry's murder._

* * *

**We All Fall Down**

Events lined up like dominoes in Bella's mind, forming a circular pattern for a fraction of a second before they began to fall. Embry's death knocked over Bella and Jessica's escape to Pendleton, which led them to Alice's note. Renee's arrival toppled into Tom calling the Feds, which brought Isaac to town and put Bella here, in the county sheriff's office. If one of the dominoes had been removed, those following it might have remained standing.

Only Sheriff Ashby occupied the world immediately outside Bella's cell. The squat, cramped building was understaffed to the point that she wondered how long it would be before Pendleton went the same way as Forks and La Grande—how long before this town fell to the control of the Raiders.

Everything Bella could see, including the walls and ceiling, was built from scraps: an entire law enforcement agency scavenged from the wreckage of storms. The place smelled like an old hospital, at once both antiseptic and musty. Sheriff Ashby sat at a desk built from an old door and a pair of sawhorses, one hand raking through his thin hair as he made phone calls and filled in page after page of paperwork. From the concrete-hard bunk in her cell, Bella watched the sun pass below the horizon.

Where was her one phone call? Was that a myth?

A sharp gust of wind announced Isaac's arrival. Leaning over Sheriff Ashby's desk, he said something in a voice Bella couldn't make out. Her imagination made her believe she caught the word "transfer" in his hissing whispers.

_No_. She couldn't go back to Forks. _Wouldn__'t_. Tears tried to escape as an unyielding band of fear tightened around her chest. She refused to let them out. She couldn't seem weak. Not now. Balling her hands into fists, she swallowed the rising lump in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Bella," Isaac said as he approached the cell.

"I'm not."

And she meant it. Keeping her promise to Embry was no reason to feel sorry. Not ever. Strange, how liberating that realization was, even when it took place inside iron bars.

"If you can help us find your mother, I'll try—"

"Fuck you."

Isaac's mouth twitched like he wanted to smile. "You've changed."

"So have you, unfortunately."

"Mm." Shoving both hands into his pockets, he crept closer. "I would have turned a blind eye and let you go, but since it was your mother who was experimenting with time—"

"Experi…_ seriously_? You still believe that bullshit? It's not something she _did_. It's something that happened _to_ her." Bella's feet carried her forward until the cold bars pressed against her chest. "Once a Raider, always a Raider, I guess."

Isaac turned to go, then stopped. His expression gentled until Bella could almost see the boy looking at her through the man's eyes.

"I'm not sorry, either," he said. "I left the Raiders that day, you know. After I was sure you got away, I ran."

"Straight to the Feds, apparently."

His lips pressed together as his head dipped into half a nod. "I'd do anything to put a stop to the storms."

With that, he marched away. As another burst of cold signaled his departure, Bella went back to counting the revolutions of the jumpy second hand on the wall clock. When Isaac had been gone for fifteen minutes, a breeze brought in another man—one with a fresh bruise painting his eye and cheekbone purple. _Tom_.

A long exhale passed through Bella's lips, leaving her chest feeling lighter. Before that moment, she hadn't allowed herself to wonder what must have happened to Tom in the alley with Jasper. So, he was still alive. Good. Let him live with the guilt if Bella ended up swinging from a tree in the forest back home.

"I need to talk to you," Tom said.

Sheriff Ashby glanced up from his paperwork, his pinched mouth falling open. "The hell happened to your face?"

"I got jumped." Through his unswollen eye, Tom's gaze flitted over to Bella. "Raiders. They're probably still down at the bar."

A sun-weathered hand passed over Sheriff Ashby's face, as if he was trying to wipe away the world around him. Propping his elbows on his desk, he looked back and forth between his son and Bella.

"Dad, they took Mom's ring. And they were talking about… about killing someone." Tom's voice cracked around the statement. "They're going after Rosalie Hale."

"_What?_"

The word was out before Bella could stop it, scraping through the air in a pitch too high to be her voice.

"She's just an innocent girl," Tom said, ignoring Bella. "She didn't do anything wrong. I know for a fact she doesn't have any marks." At this, his unmarked cheek burned into a deep blush. "Please? You have to stop them."

Bella hoped, as Sheriff Ashby stood up, that the scene would play out like a movie. The kind officer would leave a ring of keys on his desk, Bella would manage to reach it, and she would make her escape.

"You should call for backup," Tom said. "There were at least a dozen of them."

With a groan, Sheriff Ashby shrugged into his jacket. The keys jangled in his pocket as he grabbed his son's shoulder and pulled him back from the door.

"Don't tell me how to do my job, Thomas. You just stay here and keep an eye on Bella. A man called Weber will be along to collect her soon. Tell him to sit tight until I get back."

Within seconds of the sheriff's departure, something far better than a forgotten key showed up. Had Bella not been staring at the door, she wouldn't have noticed the silent arrival of one of her friends.

"Your improv needs a lot of work," Rosalie said as she rushed across the room and attacked the cell door with a crowbar. With a crack of the hinges, it gave way. "Did you really think anyone would believe you've seen me naked? You're lucky your father is so gullible."

Tom's lips opened and closed like the mouth of a fish. "How did you do that?" he asked. "And how did you hear that? And what—"

"Luck. I guess it was rusted. And of course I could hear you. I had to make sure you'd stick to the plan and not raise the alarm. Now come here, please. We need to make it look realistic."

Before Bella could blink, Tom's arms were bound behind his back. Rosalie shoved him to the floor, her hands and the rope a blur of white and red as she tied his legs to the broken cell.

"Remember," Rosalie said, "Raiders did this. They took her. If I find out that you said otherwise, I will kill you, and it won't be quick. By the time I'm through, there won't be enough left for your father to identify the body."

"Y-yeah," Tom said with a shaky nod. "Got it."

Grabbing Bella's hand, Rosalie sprinted to the parking lot. Once they were outside, she scooped Bella into her arms and broke into her true run. The speed of it stole Bella's breath and made a shriek tease the back of her throat. A strange car waited in the street behind the sheriff's office, Edward and Jessica tucked into its back seat. Bella barely had time to fasten her seatbelt before they were off, zooming toward the city limits.

"What happened to Tom?" Bella asked. Out of all of the questions buzzing in her mind, that was the one that escaped. "Did you do that?"

Rosalie chuckled. "No. The black eye was your boyfriend's handiwork."

Glancing back at him, Bella raised her eyebrows. Edward only winked.

"Yeah, yeah," Jessica said. "He's lucky I didn't get to him first."

Rosalie used the rear view mirror to shoot Edward a glare. "I could kill Jasper for goading you into that. Idiot." As if the gas pedal was to blame, she slammed her foot down until the car's speed rivaled her own. "I could've ended up breaking both of you out of jail tonight. I did rough Tom up a bit, but not enough to bruise him. He needed a little persuasion to be part of your rescue mission."

"What are we going to do now?" Bella asked.

"We're going to run. The others will cover our tracks as much as possible." Rosalie's grip on the steering wheel tightened. She looked back and forth, back and forth, like she was preparing to cross a busy intersection every few feet. "It's not going to be easy. Jasper is out finding a Raider who looks enough like you that when they find her hanging in the forest…"

Bella cringed at the sour taste that bubbled up from the back of her throat. Skidding around a corner at a speed she didn't want to estimate, they raced past the old barn.

"Couldn't find Garrett before I left," Rosalie said. "He's on a hunt. He's _not_ going to be happy with me for taking Jessica and leaving him."

"Don't worry, Rose," Jessica said, nearly elbowing Edward in the chin as she attempted to flex her bicep. "I'll protect you."

Rosalie smirked. "My hero. I can't imagine they'll be more than a day or two behind us, anyway. We're going to meet up in Nebraska, at one of our old houses."

"They're taking your car, right?" Edward asked. "It's not getting left behind?"

"You have amazing priorities," Jessica said. "We're fugitives. The Feds could catch us while Rose is off hunting, throw Bella in some top secret detention facility, and put the two of us under microscopes to see what makes us tick. Or the Raiders could find us. But ooh, _what about the car?_"

"What if it was full of cupcakes?" Edward asked, giving one of her curls a tug.

"Then we'd be getting it right goddamn now, obviously."

Rain started falling, drilling miniature holes in the snow and drumming on the roof of the car. Feeling stifled by the heat rolling out of the vents, Bella cracked her window. Edward reached between the seats and held her hand as they passed over Pendle Hill and away from their home.

.

.

Rosalie kept the car on back roads as much as possible, veering off of the freeway in La Grande and going through ghost towns on their path east. Gas was stolen or obtained from black market contacts that grew sparser with each passing mile. Food was always of the fast variety—unrationed, expensive, and of dubious origin. Jessica grinned every time she was presented with a greasy mess, making happy noises as she sucked down her syrupy drink and dunked soggy fries in watered down ketchup.

Rosalie, Bella discovered, had packed ointment, water, pills, and what remained of their vials of Jake's blood. The food she had chosen to bring along was less practical: honey, a jar of mustard, and several bags of flour. While Bella laughed over the contents of the trunk at a rest stop, Jessica snatched the mustard to mix with her ketchup.

"What were you thinking?" Bella asked. "That I was going to bake in the car?"

Rosalie waved a hand as if shooing a fly. "I just grabbed whatever I could. We'll get more."

When the radio reception flickered out, Jessica pestered everyone into joining her in murdering the show tunes and oldies she loved to sing in the shower. They didn't stop to sleep until they were desperate to lie down, checking into a fleabag motel that rented rooms by the hour, didn't ask questions, and didn't feel much warmer than sleeping in the car.

To keep Jessica from shivering, Bella and Edward squeezed in on either side of her on one of the double beds. With promises to return as soon as possible, dark-eyed Rosalie went on a hunt. The second their protector left, Bella found it harder to breathe. She wished she still had her gun.

"Sh-shoulda gone south," Jessica said through chattering teeth. "Could've sunned ourselves on a beach in Zihuatanejo, Shawshank style."

"Seriously," Edward said. "Rose could just sit in the shade. She'd be fine."

They pulled the blanket over their heads and breathed in an effort to warm the stained sheets. Edward was blessed with the ability to start snoring almost instantly, but Bella was stuck at that point where she was too wired up from a lack of sleep to let herself wind down. She felt like she'd downed a pot of coffee.

"I hope Edward doesn't mistake me for you and grope me in his sleep," Jessica whispered. "That'd be awkward."

Bella nudged Jessica's shin with her toe. "If he gets handsy, wake me up and we'll switch places."

"Oh, sure. Leave me out of all the fun."

"I'm not gonna risk Garrett's wrath by getting you involved in our kinky sex games."

"Ha. Hey, Bella?"

"Hmm?"

"I had sex with Garrett."

Bella's eyes shot open. In the red, blinking light of the motel sign, she could almost make out Jessica's smile.

"You did? When? Did he hurt you?"

"Yes, my birthday, and no." Wriggling closer to Edward, Jessica held her hands up as if in surrender. "Um, we kind of did it in your bed. First room we came to." She snorted. "And in."

Bella groaned. "Jessica! Tell me you at least changed the sheets."

"I didn't, but Garrett did. They were cleaner than these, at least." Her chilled fingers fumbled along the edge of the blanket, letting in fresher, unsteamed air. "He was worried about the hurting me thing, but I talked him into it. Probably because I was already half-dead, anyway."

"Stop that."

"Sorry."

Silence.

"So… how was it?" Bella asked.

"Cold." They shared a giggle that took Bella straight back to huddling in front of their lockers and gossiping at school. "But not as cold as this damn room. It was kind of sweet, actually. I wasn't having a lot of great days leading up to that. He… I don' t know. Made me feel better. _Lots_ better."

"Orgasms have a way of doing that."

"Amen."

The bare trees outside scraped together. Cars rumbled past, their headlights casting the shadows of imaginary captors on the wall. Every noise made Bella's heart jump.

"He offered to change me."

This quickened Bella's pulse more than any delusion of Feds come to catch them and lock them away.

"What did you say?"

"I told him no. I said I don't want to end up hurting anyone." Shivering, Jessica tugged the sheet back over their heads. "I wouldn't object to the whole being impervious to temperatures thing right now, though."

"Yeah." The words felt dead as they dropped from Bella's lips. "Me too."

"I was reconsidering, though. I don't know. Maybe I'll take him up on his offer when they find us." A yawn stretched Jessica's mouth wide. "I told him I'd give him half when I was High Queen of Everything, though. And I said I'd give up my marem. Guess I'll have to follow through on that if I ask him to change me. Dammit."

The grin that stole onto Bella's face left her feeling like it was spring, if only for a second. "You volunteered to give up your marem for him? Must be true love, then."

"Uh huh. Must be."

Slowly, Jessica's breaths grew slower and deeper, drifting into snores that clashed with Edward's. Only then did Bella slide into sleep.

.

.

The blackened husk of a house wasn't visible from the road. Pockets of yellow smoke cuddled under bare trees, telling stories of a recent storm, but it wasn't until Rosalie pulled up to the end of the driveway that they they saw the wreckage. Nestled there in the parched earth, surrounded by the glimmer of broken glass, was the remains of what was supposed to be their new home. Only one wall was left standing.

"Home sweet home?" Bella asked.

"Dibs on the room with a wall," Jessica said.

Rosalie sat up too straight. "Oh, no." She grabbed Bella's shoulder hard enough to leave a bruise. "Feds." The word felt too short, too simple for everything it carried. Rosalie's breath sped up to match Bella's pulse. "On the main road. Someone noticed you at the last rest stop and reported it. They're talking about it."

Waiting, Bella was soon to discover, was its own form of torture. Two towns over, she waited while Edward took the wad of cash pressed into his hand by Rosalie and sauntered into the used car dealership. Tethered to the car and its tinted windows by the sun, Rosalie tapped her fingernails against the steering wheel and kept her foot ready to stomp on the accelerator.

Edward brought them a station wagon that made Rosalie's lips pull into a grimace to match his. Its previous owner had spray painted the fake wood paneling a dull red, and leopard print fabric was stapled over the seats. Still, it had tinted windows and it ran, which was as much as they could ask for in their price range.

A hundred miles down the road, once the sky was dark and safe, Rosalie stopped at a pay phone. Even from the car, Bella could hear the series of high pitched beeps that indicated the number was no longer in service.

"What are we going to do?" Edward asked as Rosalie got back in and slammed her door.

"For now, let's just keep moving."

.

.

"Ow." Edward picked up the penny that ricocheted off of his forehead. "What was that for?"

"I'm bored," Jessica said. Grabbing the penny from between his fingers, she threw it again. "And I feel kinda carsick. We're basically like siblings, right? I've heard this is what siblings do on long car trips to keep themselves sane. They try to drive each other crazy. Next, I'm going to do the _I__'m not touching you_ thing. For an hour."

Kicking off her shoes, Bella propped her feet on the warm dashboard and pretended it was summer. "Siblings, huh?" she said. "Want some quarters, Jess?"

A blush tinted Jessica's cheeks, but she was the one who confessed that she'd once asked Bella to bounce quarters off of Edward's ass.

"When was this?" he asked through a full-body laugh.

"Right after you came to Pendleton. I didn't _know_ you then. I only knew your ass."

Edward stole the penny and threw it at her.

"Kids," Rosalie said. "If you don't behave yourselves, I'm going to turn this car around."

Jessica let out an exaggerated sigh. "Please do. I want to go home."

"You and me both," Rosalie said. "They should have found us by now."

As Rosalie drove, she watched the horizon more than the road, always waiting, like a brand new war widow who didn't yet know the horrible truth. After so much time on the road, Bella could no longer remember the peace of sleeping in her own bed or eating without being jostled by potholes.

Chicago rose up before them. Seeing the remnants of the skyline Edward had etched on his skin was like seeing the ruins of giants.

"Maybe we should turn back," Bella said, pressing her forehead to the cold window in order to look up at half of a skyscraper. "Being this far east can't be a good idea. I'd rather face the Raiders than the Feds."

"Same," Edward said. "Or hey, we could go to Charlotte and Peter. They aren't far from here."

"Yes, they are," Rosalie said. "They relocated to Alaska not long after you left them. And Peter… well. I wouldn't trust him around so much as a drop of human blood. He's very fond of you, so he'd regret it after the fact, but he _would _eat you. No, we're going to Connecticut. Tanya and Irina are there. They might have gotten a message from the others by now, and they can give us somewhere to hide."

As they passed through an empty, storm-torn shell of a suburb, Bella dampened a washcloth and ran it over her face and arms. Her hair was a horrible mixture of greasy and dry, stripped of life by the shampoo in cheap motels. If everything went according to plan and the others came for them, Bella was going to soak in a hot bath the instant Garrett whisked Jessica away to be changed into a vampire.

A crack of orange forking across the sky tore Bella's attention away from her dreams of the future. Jessica screamed, blood gurgling from her mouth. Heart in her throat, Bella climbed into the backseat and pressed a handkerchief over Jessica's lips. The caged screams vibrated against her hand. Within seconds, the white cotton was soaked with dark, frightening red.

"Pull over," Edward said, fumbling to retrieve what they had left of Jake's blood.

"I am," Rosalie said. "There's an abandoned building up here. I don't hear any heartbeats inside. Just hold on."

Edward administered the injection, his lips moving in something Bella thought might have been a prayer. Once they came to a stop, Rosalie carried Jessica inside the skeleton of a mechanic's shop. The layers of dust still smelled like tires and engine grease. Edward stumbled, catching himself against a wall and slumping to the floor, his face pale.

"Go ahead and cry," Rosalie said, sitting on the floor and holding Jessica in her lap. "Scream if you need to. I'll let you know if anyone gets close enough to hear."

"I changed my mind," Jessica said around a rattling wail, tears streaming down her face and making Bella's eyes sting. "I want Garrett. I don't want to die."

"Rose," Bella said. "_Please_."

For a second, Bella thought Rosalie was going to repeat everything she'd shouted in the trailer a million years ago. She braced herself for the punch to her stomach, but what came instead was a hand to hold.

"I don't… I don't know if I can. I've never tried." Gulping, Rosalie pointed back the way they'd come in. "Go outside. Both of you. If I lose control, I don't want you in the same room. Oh, God, what am I doing?"

Through an ash-fogged window, Bella and Edward watched Rosalie set Jessica on the cement floor. Orange light snapped across them, bringing another spurt of blood from Jessica's mouth.

This time, Rosalie screamed.

Bella didn't understand why until Rosalie pressed her hands against Jessica's chest again and again. She moved back and forth between blowing into Jessica's mouth and biting her neck, her wrists, behind her knees, trying to breathe or bite life or something like it back into her. When Rosalie lingered over one of the bites, Bella barged in, warnings be damned.

Covering her mouth and nose, Rosalie retreated to a corner. Jessica lay flat on her back, her eyes closed as if she was asleep. Feeling for her pulse was almost like touching Rosalie—warmer, softer, but just as still. Just as silent. Bella's stomach lurched.

"I tried," Rosalie said. "Her heart stopped. I'm sorry."

Her voice tapered off as if she'd run out of air. As Edward covered Jessica with the blanket from the car, Bella wanted to cry until all of Chicago heard, but nothing came out. Like Jessica, her tears were out of reach, held captive somewhere just beyond her grasp.

Bella turned and fled, shrugging off Edward's hand when he caught her arm. She had to get out of there. She wasn't ready to face the quiet body that used to hold her best friend. She wasn't ready to hear the apologies that meant Jessica was gone.

The closest door took her to what must have once been the mechanic's office. Miss September 1996 smiled her plastic, faded smile from the rotting calendar on the wall. A vending machine in the corner held a single package of candy: empty calories that would have made Jessica smile, no matter their expiration date.

Peering through a broken window, Bella sang quavering folk songs across overgrown lawns with soot and half-grown trees where houses used to be, hoping against all logic for the wind to carry the notes across the country to Yellowstone.

Neither Jake nor the tears showed up.

.

.

_Breathe_.

Rosalie's lungs refused to obey the order, as if they didn't yet trust her teeth to keep from tearing into Edward's throat. One hand fluttered to her chest and waited for the thump of a pulse. The deep-down ache there was too consuming, too raw to be anything but human. A frozen heart couldn't hurt this way.

Her family had been cloudy memories when they died. Nothing like this. Even the humans obliterated by the Surge had not amounted to much more than a heavy stone to carry in the pit of her stomach day in and day out. Before Jessica, the only lost life Rosalie had mourned with all her might had been her own.

_Breathe_.

Air rushed in, tainted and tempting. As a new fire roared in her throat, her heart remained silent. Rosalie clenched her jaw shut. She could still taste Jessica's blood—could still smell it streaking Bella and Edward's hands. She had to get out of there.

"Rose?"

The scent of saltwater accompanied the choked word, quenching the fire. Opening her eyes, she saw Edward—just Edward. Not the branching veins in the arm he extended to her, but the boy who once tried to bribe a vampire with sweets.

"Yes?" she said.

One of his welled-up tears trickled down his cheek. "Are you, um, thirsty right now? If I get too close, are you going to bite me?"

The last time he'd voluntarily stood near her, he hadn't known what she was. As soon as Rosalie shook her head, a pair of warm arms wrapped around her and held as tight as a human could.

"Hey," he said. "You're not sitting here doing something stupid like blaming yourself, are you? Because it's not your fault."

_Yes, it is_, she thought, but didn't say.

When he let her go, the collar of his shirt gaped open. More lesions. A fresh wave of venom seared her mouth.

"What do you want to do about those?" she asked, pointing at the pink-ringed red spots. "Do you want to be changed?"

The freckles on his nose stood out as the color drained from his face. His heart pounded faster, sweetening the scent of his blood. His fingers flexed, curling and uncurling as he looked away from the flame colored sky outside their shelter.

"Are you offering?" he asked.

Jessica's shrouded body offered silent accusations. Rosalie shivered as if her delusion about turning human had come true.

"Yes," she said, though she wasn't at all certain she could do it—that she _would _do it. Here, in the shadow of their friend's death, she would offer him and Bella anything.

Stopping with Jessica's wolf-poisoned blood had been difficult enough. Edward no longer smelled like the pack. Carlisle would change him, though, if Rosalie asked.

Black dust billowed around Edward's feet as he scuffed the toe of his boot against the cement floor. "I don't know. I'll think about it."

Vampire-fast footsteps pounded against the cracked pavement outside, drawing closer and closer. Leaping up, Rosalie placed herself between Edward and the intruder. Just as she was about to open the office door and get both of her humans where she could see them, a voice she hadn't heard in years floated in on the storm.

"It's okay, Rose. It's just me."

Within seconds that felt like hours, the shop door opened. Alice skipped inside like a beam of light. And then, before Rosalie could order her lungs to breathe again, her arms were full of one of her lost girls.

"I'm so sorry," Alice said. "I wish I could have gotten here sooner. I tried. I don't think I've ever run so fast." Peeking around Rosalie's shoulder, she added, "Hello, Edward."

"Um. Hi."

"You should probably wash your hands," Alice said. "The blood. Bella, too. Rose, there's a spot out back next to a lilac bush. I can dig the grave, if you want."

"No," Rosalie said. "I'll do it."

It seemed only fitting, since she'd been the one to put Jessica there.

Broken glass and rusted car parts littered the grave site. Rosalie cleaned it up as much as she could. She wished she could run south and find a whole bouquet of flowers for Jessica, like Garrett used to do.

_Garrett._

Rosalie closed her eyes for the space of one trembling breath. The dark soil caked together, sticking under her fingernails as she carved a scar in the earth with her hands.

"Would it have worked?" she whispered when she heard Alice's light footsteps behind her. "If I'd done it in time, would my venom have clashed with the dog's blood?"

Alice tilted her head to one side. "Would knowing make you feel better or worse?"

"I have no idea."

A soft hand landed between her shoulder blades. "I can't see the past."

Part of Rosalie was glad she couldn't know. It meant Bella couldn't know, either. The healing powers of Jacob Black's blood had been Bella's discovery, after all. That blood had prolonged Jessica's life; Rosalie wouldn't tolerate anyone telling Bella otherwise.

Edward was the one to carry Jessica's tiny body outside and lower her into the ground. Rosalie didn't dare offer assistance, even when the last of the storm sparked overhead and made him falter. After placing a bag of candy inside the grave like an offering, a vacant-eyed Bella threw the first handful of dirt. Then, with a rusty nail, she scratched an epitaph into the lilac bush.

_Here lies Jessica Stanley_

_Beloved friend, cherished daughter, and High Queen of Everything_

_._

_._

As Alice drove them toward their new home, Bella sat in the front seat and stared, unseeing, at the changing landscape. Rosalie wondered if she'd even cried yet. A year-old conversation with Jessica came winging back, Rosalie's cruel memory making her friend's voice as clear as if she was still there next to her.

"Look," Jessica had said, "if I die and Bella goes all zombie on you, I want you to smack her upside the head, okay? Well, maybe not that, but snap her out of it somehow. She went practically catatonic when her ex died. I can't stand the thought of her being like that because of me. So, I don't know, just fix her if she's broken. Promise me. If you don't, I'll haunt the crap out of you."

_Please do haunt us,_ Rosalie thought. _You were always better at making her smile._

After too many hours of silence, rest stops, and the oily stench of fast food, Alice announced that they'd arrived at their destination. She pulled onto a long gravel driveway that snaked between towering evergreens. Going deeper and deeper into the woods felt like falling off of the edge of civilization and tumbling into the wild.

Over the rumble of the engine and the crunch of gravel, Rosalie heard the footsteps of two vampires. The thumping gait of one of them was unmistakable.

_Emmett._

She was out of the car before Alice could come to a full stop. And then she was running, running, running, arms pumping, ponytail whipping behind her like a kite's tail. Her feet skipped between cold-browned grass and patches of snow. She couldn't make her legs go fast enough.

Two heads of dark hair appeared over a hill, the setting sun turning the sky to fire behind them. Rosalie picked up speed, an invisible rope tugging her forward. Emmett leapt at the same time as her. As they crashed into an embrace, he held her like they'd never fought.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked through a dimpled grin. "We've been looking everywhere. You pissed Demetri off to no end. He couldn't see you."

"You went to _Demetri?_"

"Well, yeah. I only asked him to tell me where you were; I didn't want to mention Bella and the others. We would've stuck around Pendleton and waited for a message, but Renee went to her old friends for shelter and complicated stuff. We had to get out. How did you hide from Demetri?"

The car caught up, skidding to a stop a few feet away. Forgetting his question, Emmett whirled Alice, then Bella out of their seats. He hugged Bella so tight, Rosalie felt like a new mother watching her baby being tossed in the air by its rambunctious father.

Garrett caught Bella next, both hands on her shoulders. Bella offered a single shake of her head as an answer to the question he hadn't needed to ask. Garrett's eyes slammed shut. Wrapping her arms around him, Bella clung to him like he was all she had left—like he was the closest she could get to Jessica. With his breath held, he did the same in return.

Rosalie didn't know what to say, what to do. She let Garrett carry Bella to their new house, offering her own back to a skeptical Edward. Instead of flinching away from her, he hopped on. Perhaps he would soon trust her again—treat her like _Rose_ again.

The log cabin was one Rosalie hadn't seen since before the Surge. It looked as though its previous owners had made a hobby of building additions. Several wings branched out from the center, each with a different color of metal roof capping it off. Several lifetimes ago, she'd laughed at Carlisle for buying it and forbade him to change a thing.

"Where are we?" Bella asked as she slid off of Garrett's back onto the sagging porch.

"Just outside Whitefish, Montana," Rosalie said, setting Edward down. "Are you hungry? I can make you something."

They were both so thin. Rosalie could imagine them floating back to that nowhere that held them out of Demetri's sight, carried by the wind.

"No," Bella said, at the same time Edward nodded his head.

While Garrett ran into the thick of the forest, trailed by Emmett, Alice took it upon herself to escort Bella to her room. Rosalie and Edward found their own way to the kitchen, where he let her muddle her way through burning hash browns, eggs, and toast—a combination she knew she'd seen him eat on the road. The lack of butting in with "helpful" suggestions and needling her until they bickered made him seem like a stranger in a familiar body.

Setting the plate in front of him, she perched on the edge of a chair and folded her hands in her lap. The rubbery eggs got a prod from his fork before he took a small bite of dark toast.

"Y'know," he said, trying to smile through the crumbs, "if food wasn't so scarce, I'd throw this at you."

The memory that surfaced was as fresh and light as summer: her, saying those words to him in a flour-dusted kitchen. Rosalie touched his arm.

"Have you given any more thought to my proposal?" she asked.

"Rose, you're great, but you know I'm taken."

His hollow attempt at a grin made Rosalie wonder if he thought someone had to step up and be the one to try to make them laugh, now that Jessica was gone.

"Edward—"

"Sorry, sorry." His fork clinked against the plate. Leaning back, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I want to wait a bit longer. I'm not a hopeless case yet, am I?"

She tried to believe he wasn't. She tried to believe that if she ran to Yellowstone to ask for more blood to buy time, the wolves wouldn't tear her apart on sight. She tried to believe she wasn't being selfish, changing him to save herself and Bella from the pain of his death. She tried to believe his feelings for Bella wouldn't be scorched by the venom until they were nothing but a misty dream he once had.

A silent Bella padded into the room. Edward's lips had a sheen of grease from what he'd eaten of his dinner, and his hair stuck out every which way from sleeping in the car. His clothes carried the stale scent of too much time spent sitting still. In spite of all of this, when he stood up and took Bella into his arms, she buried her face in his shirt and breathed deep.

"Hey," he whispered. "Want me to get a roll of quarters and let you bounce them off of my ass?"

Bella's shaky hand rose to her mouth, catching something that might have been a laugh. A sob ripped through her, reopening the wound in Rosalie's chest.

"Shit," Edward said, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to… I shouldn't have said—"

Bella squeezed him tight, cutting off the apology. Over the top of her head, Edward made eye contact with Rosalie. He nodded.

So that was that, then. Edward would become a vampire. Venom taunted Rosalie's tongue with the memory of Jessica's blood. As soon Carlisle got home, she would ask him to be the one to do it. That would be safer.

Needing something to occupy her hands, Rosalie explored the house. Chores found her in Bella and Edward's room; the sheets smelled as if they'd been waiting on the bed for months, though it couldn't have been more than a few days. As she smoothed the fresh pillowcases, her thoughts drifted back to her one and only slumber party with Bella and Jessica. She remembered braiding Jessica's hair. Her hands hadn't needed reminders to touch Jessica softly. They did it as if on instinct.

Once the bed was finished, she returned to the kitchen and did the dishes at human speed. Alice appeared out of nowhere, tea towel in hand, ready to dry.

"Why did you send us to find that woman?" Rosalie asked, handing her a clean pan. "She ruined everything."

Questions flitted across Alice's face, chased away by answers Rosalie didn't have to say for Alice to hear.

"Oh." Alice's lower lip disappeared into her mouth. "Renee. I didn't… it was all so different when I saw it. Bella and Jessica were always a bit fuzzy in my visions. Not that I've been particularly reliable since the Surge, but I thought this one was reasonably certain. When I wrote that letter, I just saw your friend being reunited with her mother in that place at that time. I suppose it had been decided that Renee would look for her daughter, but not that she'd be a Raider. I…"

She stopped. Rosalie flicked the soap bubbles from her fingers and watched them circle the drain. That all-seeing expression crept into Alice's eyes—the one that said she was looking through Rosalie and concentrating on the movements of her future self.

"You're going to ask Carlisle, then?" Alice asked.

"Yes."

Alice opened her mouth to say something, then swallowed the words. Reaching up, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind Rosalie's ear.

"Jasper and Mary should be back from searching for you soon," Alice said. "Do you think Mary would mind if I borrowed some fresh clothes?" She paused, her eyes going vacant. "No, she won't. I can see that much, at least." Balancing on tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to Rosalie's cheek. "I'm going to go freshen up."

With Alice gone, Rosalie followed Bella and Edward's heartbeats. Bella's had slowed to the pace of a lullaby. Rosalie found her dozing on the couch, her puffy eyes still wet from tears.

Sitting at the piano in the corner of their new living room, Edward brushed his fingers over the chipped keys. The song that began to take shape brought a smile to Rosalie's face. Not long after Edward's arrival in Pendleton, Jessica had announced her presence in the lab one morning by placing her hands over Rosalie's from behind and belting out "Unchained Melody" while Rosalie typed.

"Aww, c'mon, Rose," Jessica had said when Rosalie laughed. "Stay in character! Do you want to be Patrick Swayze instead? Here, I'll be Demi Moore. Try to look manly."

Standing there, watching Edward's mouth quirk up at the same memory, Rosalie was tempted to offer to be Patrick Swayze for him, just to see if she could make him laugh. Only the sudden presence of a familiar scent stopped her.

Carlisle touched her shoulder, his eyes going wide. Two heartbeats harmonized with the song; he didn't need to ask what had happened to the third. Without a word, he took Rosalie in his arms and rocked her like he had when she was making the transition from human to vampire: careful and close, like he thought she would shatter and fall away from him. His lips skimmed her temple.

"We couldn't find you," he whispered. "Not even when Emmett went to Demetri. We thought…"

Whatever they thought never made it past his lips, but Rosalie could guess. Without asking, she also knew Emmett hadn't shared that worry. He always thought he'd _know_ if she was gone forever. He insisted he'd be able to feel the hole she left behind, no matter how many miles separated them.

Together, Rosalie and Carlisle moved to the kitchen, leaving Edward to his music and Bella to dreams that Rosalie hoped were untroubled. Snow fell outside the window, thick and fast. Backlit by the last rays of the setting sun, Carlisle looked exactly like the saintly doctor she'd bullied into being her friend in a former life. For once, her human memories and her vampire memories were identical. This golden-haired man was the same handsome neighbor she'd tried to ensnare with cookies and cakes. After her change, they'd often seemed like two different Carlisles, belonging to two different Rosalies.

"I need to talk to you," she said.

"You know you never need an invitation to do that." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. She almost wanted to believe the act; he was so well-practiced at pretending to be human. "What is it?"

With a quick, steadying breath, she dived in. "Will you change Edward?" At his raised eyebrows, she added, "I'm not convinced we'll find a cure before it's too late for him. I tried to change Jessica. I almost lost control, even though she tasted like a wolf. I can't… I can't let Bella lose him."

_I can__'t lose them_, she thought. _Not them, too._

"I'm sorry," Carlisle said, calm and measured as always. "As I've told you before, Emmett was my last attempt at creating a companion."

A thousand retorts cartwheeled through her mind, but the one that came out was, "Why?"

"I made a vow after Emmett. No more. They are soap bubbles. Fleeting, beautiful, and too fragile to keep. If you let yourself get attached, you'll want to change all of them."

The memories separated again. This vampire with his cold logic wasn't her doctor with the gentle smile. He wasn't the one who had cradled her while she burned and begged her not to die.

"Is that what I was?" she asked. "A soap bubble? Something to amuse you for a few minutes? A plaything? You…" Looking up at the ceiling, she smothered the flames of her anger. Shouting at him and replaying old fights wouldn't end with her getting her way. Through gritted teeth, she said, "That's not an acceptable reason. I don't believe it's your real reason, either. I won't want to keep every human I meet. Not even close. I hate most of the stupid things. In over eighty years, I've only asked this of you once before."

"What of Bella? She can't be around a newborn. She won't get to keep him. _You_ won't get to keep _her_."

Rosalie's hand sliced through the air, as if she thought she could cut through his objections. "Then change her as well, if that's what she wants."

With his posture rigid, Carlisle splayed a hand across his own long-quiet heart. "I'm not going to use my venom when it suits you while you carry on resenting me—while you carry on blaming—"

"I don't…" Her interruption trailed off. Nothing could get past the tightness in her throat: no excuses, no lies, no accusations.

Carlisle's shoes clicked on the earthen tiles as he stepped closer. "You hated me for it," he said in a softer voice, bringing him closer to the doctor she used to know.

"I didn't. Never."

That much, at least, was true.

"Hmm," he said. It was the sort of unsatisfied noise he frequently made when experimenting in the lab. "Emmett—"

"Emmett doesn't hate you."

His fingertips brushed her cheek. "Sometimes, he does. I won't try to stop you if you want to change either of them, but I won't do it for you, either."

"What if I can't stop once I start? You already know you can do it. Why risk their lives?"

"Because I've paid the price, done my penance, offered a thousand apologies. I'm through trying to assuage my guilt by giving you everything you want. Make your own mistakes, Rose. Don't push your plans onto me so you have someone to blame when they don't turn out as you envisioned. How many innocent people will die if they become like us? I won't be responsible for that."

His voice almost, _almost_ raised toward the end, but then he bit it back. Turning on his heel, he walked away. He didn't storm, as she would have, had she been the one doing the leaving.

Rosalie waited until his human-loud footsteps faded into the distance before she put a sandwich (peanut butter and jelly: foolproof, she hoped) on the coffee table for Bella. Dusting already clean shelves, she thought about the potted hyacinth apologies that used to clutter every surface of her apartment. She hoped her friends had left them in Pendleton.

Cleaning her way out to the green steel barn led her to the bones of their new lab. Everything was still contained in boxes, left there to wait for the end of their search. Come spring, when the ground thawed, they would start tunneling into the earth again. With the limited tools at her disposal, Rosalie tried to get some work done. Focusing proved impossible. Her attention buzzed back and forth between topics, none of which were contained in the lab.

As night rolled in, she felt, more than heard, Jasper and Mary's return. A pulse of bright joy hit her square in the chest.

"Well," Alice said as Jasper embraced her for the first time in years. "I kept you waiting long enough, didn't I?"

"You sure did."

Rosalie tried to feel happy for them.

She couldn't stop thinking about Carlisle. Yes, okay, she had asked a lot of him over the years. Too much. But this wasn't for her. Not entirely. It was for Bella as well. Bella, who had only ever asked one thing of Carlisle—one thing he'd failed to deliver.

Rosalie snatched up an umbrella and headed after him, hoping he'd gone into town. The tumbling snow had buried much of his scent.

Beneath its covering of white, everything looked fresh and clean. Spotting a bobbing black umbrella like her own, Rosalie hurried past cars with sheets tacked up in the windows. The stone in her belly grew heavier. A spectator on the second floor of an old tourist shop flicked ash from the end of his cigarette.

"You won't even consider it?" she asked as she caught up, keeping her voice too low for the nearby humans. It wouldn't do to start drawing attention—not when they'd only just arrived in this place.

A sigh breezed through Carlisle's lips. "Please don't ask me again," he said. "I gave you my reasons."

Something deep within Rosalie whispered that if he cared about her as much as he'd always claimed, he would do this. Not just for Bella, not because he owed her for Jessica's death, but for _her_. For Rosalie.

Maybe she really had been nothing more than a plaything.

"I've been such a fool, haven't I?" she asked on the wings of a suppressed sob. "All this time... Did you ever love me at all?"

His hand was cold around her arm as he pulled her to a stop in the shadows, his skin like ice from being out in the snow for hours.

"Love you?" he whispered. "How can you doubt it?"

"How can I not?"

Like always, he stopped himself before their lips could so much as brush together. An almost-kiss left her burning in spite of the cold.

With his forehead resting against hers, his breath touched her mouth as he said, "I destroyed the world for you."

And then he did kiss her, just once, for the first time since her heart stopped beating. Nothing fluttered to life within her: no feeling of triumph, no inward cheer. It wasn't the same, and perhaps it never could be. She'd changed. He'd changed. Emmett had stumbled into their lives and shook everything until it was upside down.

Carlisle caught her upper lip between his for a second before he released her. Even though she knew he wasn't going to pack up and leave, it felt like goodbye.

She cupped his cheek in her palm, her umbrella knocking against his and showering them in snow that wouldn't melt. Once again, she saw her doctor standing there. He'd been a vampire for centuries when she met him, but he was the last scrap of a human life she'd been holding onto so hard it hurt. Beneath her iron grip, everything had warped until she no longer recognized the things she once wanted.

"You had help," she said. "It's as much my fault as it is yours. More so, if I'm honest. Much more."

His lips flirted with an imitation of a smile. "Since when are you honest?"

Without replying, she glanced back in the direction of the cabin. If she could carry a wounded stranger across hundreds of miles when the venom in her veins was new, she could do this. She didn't need Carlisle.

Still, since they were airing things they'd never spoken, she wondered.

"If it had worked," she said, "would you have joined me?"

He didn't answer.

.

.

Bella lay on her side, spooning a snoozing Edward. Both of them had showered during Rosalie's absence; Bella's hair flowed over the edge of the bed in a damp wave. In the hand of the arm she'd wedged beneath him, she held one of Carlisle's books. As Rosalie let herself into the room, Bella stopped reading over Edward's shoulder and looked up, her face still splotchy and tear-stained.

"We need to talk," Bella said, and Rosalie almost grinned. This was the Bella she loved best: the one who came up swinging. "I asked Edward if he wanted to be changed, and he said—"

"Do you want children?" Rosalie asked.

Bella blinked a few times before giving her answer. "No."

"Are you certain? Because once you become a vampire, it's an impossibility."

The book fell to the mattress. Extracting her arm from beneath Edward, Bella sat up.

"I don't want to wait until the last minute with him," Rosalie said. "That's what you wanted to talk to me about, right? And I don't want to change him without changing you, so I need to know if you're sure."

Hearing herself say the words was like an out-of-body experience. Even stranger was that she meant every syllable. If Alice had been able to see past the Surge and had told the Rosalie of 1996 that this would happen, she would have laughed. She would have gone against the coven's motto and bet everything she owned against Alice.

"I'm sure," Bella said. "I wouldn't want to raise a child in this world." Toying with the hem of her borrowed nightgown, she looked toward the window. "If you change me, will I forget Jessica?"

"I won't let you." Rosalie paced back and forth, her hands itching for something to do. "Think of her during the change. That should help. I retained a lot of my human memories that way. Bad ones, mostly, but I'm sure it would work with the good memories as well. And I know Garrett has those pictures Jessica made him draw for you."

"A-all right." Bella cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry I didn't try to change Jessica in time. If I could take it back… I'd take back a lot of things. Which brings me to my next order of business." Swallowing hard against a flood of venom, Rosalie wiped imaginary dust from the dresser and rubbed her missing pinky. "There's something I have to tell you. Perhaps I'm being a coward, telling you while you're human, but it's well past time you knew. Even if it makes you hate me."

"Okay. Tell me, then."

Rosalie hesitated. When she forced her lips to move, her voice came in a storm-cracked whisper. "It's my fault."

"What is?" Bella asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Everything."


	18. Among the Roses

_**A/N: **__Thank you, as always, to thimbles for pre-reading this for me, and to you for reading. I__'m going to tentatively say the next chapter should be up on May 26th. __Only two more chapters and an epilogue left to go. :)_

* * *

**Among the Roses**

It was her last good memory as a human, that kiss. In the sleepy warmth of his parlor, he'd bent down, so slow, so careful, and touched his lips to hers. Rosalie had felt like bursting into song. At last, she'd won. He was hers.

Somehow, in spite of her own schemes, she'd thought herself in love. She'd _wanted_ to love him—the kind, lonely doctor who had become her dearest friend.

"There are things I must tell you," Carlisle had said. "I want there to be no secrets between us. If we're to go forward, you should know everything about me."

Like an idiot, she'd giggled. "Will these secrets spoil my good mood?"

"They may."

"Then keep them locked away for a few more hours." Just to prove she could, she'd straightened his jacket, as if she was already his wife. That version of herself was always counting unhatched chickens. "Let me continue to bask."

And that had been it. Hours later, he'd smelled her blood spilling onto the cold street. No more basking. No more secrets. Only venom and revenge and eighty years of trying to claw her way back to what she'd wanted when she was just a child.

She'd been such a fool.

.

.

"Rose?" Bella said, waving a hand in front of Rosalie's dark, vacant eyes. "What do you mean _everything_ is your fault?"

Rosalie's head snapped up, as if she was waking from a dream. Shaking Edward's shoulder, she told Bella that he needed to hear her confession as well. Watching his eyelids flutter open was like watching him come back to life, the way he smiled at them. Soon, Bella thought, she would really see him come back to life. Nestling her cold feet against his shins, she borrowed some of his warmth. The heat of his sleepy skin made her think of old friends.

"Rose?" Bella said. "After I'm changed, don't let me go to Yellowstone."

She didn't want Jake to see her transformed into his enemy. Better for him to remember her as she had been in the days before they fought—if such a time had ever existed. For her part, Rosalie didn't ask for the reason behind the request; she agreed to it without question. As Rosalie perched on the chair by the door, Edward and Bella propped themselves up against the headboard. Bit by bit, Rosalie's story started to weave itself together in her clear, melodic voice.

"Do you remember Vincent the mouse?" Rosalie asked. "The one that ended up with the baby-sized ear after our experiment?" Holding up her left hand, she wiggled the four remaining fingers. "He and I have more in common than you might expect."

A long pause found her staring through the window at the endless snow, tapping on her blank knuckle. "I suppose I should start roughly at the beginning. I was seventeen when Carlisle came to Rochester. He was handsome, single, young. Well…" She squinted. "Young in _appearance_. By that time, his actual age was close to three hundred. I was a different person back then. Spoiled, selfish—"

"Not _that_ different, then," Edward said with a wink.

The laugh that escaped Rosalie's lips sounded more like it was for him than for her: high and quick, with no force behind it. "I suppose not," she said, dusting her hands together. "You already know the bit about me forcing him to befriend me with some help from baked goods. I might never have taken much notice of him, had other women not wanted him so much. My parents hoped I would marry a man named Royce King." At this, her face contorted into a grimace that made Bella wonder if bile was defying everything they knew about vampires and burning its way up Rosalie's throat. "I only ever encouraged Royce when I thought it might make Carlisle jealous. To me, Carlisle was a catch—a prize to be won."

"Still is," Edward said. At Bella's half-smirk, he added, "Chesterton practically had its own Carlisle Ogling Society. And Jasper and Mary Ogling Societies, for that matter."

Rosalie's eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. As she continued speaking, her fingers kept drifting back toward that missing pinky, tap-tap-tapping some message Bella couldn't understand, revealing cards Bella couldn't guess.

"Some things never change," Rosalie said. "And some things do. I did, obviously. I was… _hurt_ while walking home from a friend's house one night. By the time Carlisle found me bleeding in the street, I was on the edge of death. He chose to change me." She swallowed. "I thought myself in love with him before that night. Once I woke up as a vampire, everything was different between us. Like there was… I don't know. Like something was missing. Something vital and beautiful that we'd lost along the way. Perhaps we'd never had it at all."

Suspicion crawled up Bella's spine, teasing her skin with its cold fingers. She wondered if Rosalie was including these bits about Carlisle in her story to prepare them for what might happen. Taking Edward's hand in hers, she squeezed hard. In response, he offered her a hint of his easy, crooked smile and nudged her toes with his beneath the blanket.

"A few years after my change, I found Emmett bleeding in the forest. He'd been mauled by a bear. I begged Carlisle to change him. I thought what many people think: that I could salvage an ailing relationship by having a child. Or, in our case, a substitute child. Emmett was already grown, of course, but I believed we could make do."

Bella couldn't prevent her eyebrows from shooting up. Rosalie's chin dipped down, one shoulder raising in a halfhearted shrug.

"Emmett had other ideas, obviously. We got along well… at first. Over time, less so. I developed a nasty habit of letting things get almost serious with Emmett, then panicking and running back to Carlisle. Not some of my finer moments, and not anything I'm proud of. Carlisle was all I had left of my human life, and I kept trying to cling to that. If Carlisle hadn't felt so guilty, I imagine he would have cut ties with me decades ago. God knows why Emmett hasn't."

Bella held her breath, suppressing the caretaker within who wanted to fix Rosalie's tousled hair and whisper pretty words about how much Emmett obviously loved her. This business with Carlisle and Emmett couldn't be the _everything_ that was Rosalie's fault. There had to be more. Whispers of a long-ago, overheard fight whirred through Bella's head.

_"You've been fighting this since we met, and maybe you just won. Congrats. Fate or instinct or whatever might want us together, but I don't. Not anymore. I'm tired of tiptoeing and trying not to pressure you and fucking waiting for years on end. I give up. Jesus. You actually managed to wear me out."_

_"Trying not to pressure me? Right. All you've ever given me is pressure."_

_"You know that's not true."_

_"So all of that stuff about waiting forever if you had to was a lie? What, am I supposed to chase after you now? Soothe your poor, hurt little feelings? Play the subservient woman and let you make my choices for me?"_

_"Fate is an idiot, and apparently so am I. Why did I ever believe I was in love with you?"_

"Then," Rosalie said, her voice beginning to quiver, "we met Alistair. In Ithaca." She rushed on, barely giving the word _Ithaca_ a chance to sink in, as if she hoped to sweep it under the carpet as soon as it was spoken. "He was gifted—like our kind occasionally are. He could touch a broken glass and make the pieces fuse back together. He could touch a rusted old car and make it run like it had just rolled out of the factory. It worked best on inanimate objects. Living things were much more difficult. Back then, he could just about manage to bring a dead housefly back to life or force an oak tree to grow a few inches before his power fizzled out. Carlisle was fascinated. He called in his friend, Eleazar, who has a gift for sensing talent in other vampires. Eleazar said that Alistair fixed things or made them grow by some manipulation of time. It was like whatever he touched became encased in a bubble, staying where it was as Alistair pressed rewind or fast-forward."

Realization punched Bella in the gut. This was it. This was the _everything_. Oh, God. It really was everything.

Edward sat up straighter, one hand flying to his mouth. "He did it," he said, his fingers spreading out in a fan over his jaw. "He caused the Surge, didn't he?"

Rosalie's arms fell to her sides. "_We_ did it. I asked him to—begged, more like. Carlisle worked out how to keep Alistair's power from draining. Like so many things where vampires are concerned, blood was the answer. We collected bags and bags of it—human and animal, though Alistair complained about the latter. Emmett and Carlisle fed Alistair while he used his gift on me. We didn't know what would happen. You_ have_ to believe that. Alice didn't see anything until it was too late."

Everything looked too sharp, too real. Bella watched Rosalie's mouth continue to move, only half-believing it was actually her friend saying these words. This couldn't be the truth.

"We attempted it in the cellar of our house in Ithaca. It took three days for anything to happen. Just as I started to change, Alistair lost control. The energy needed to transform a vampire was too much for him to take. I was thrown away from him by an explosion; all I could see was orange light and yellow smoke. The storms smell like that, still. You know—like all of the worst parts of a hospital. I still wonder, if we'd been above ground, if all of that energy would have ended up like it did, stored in the earth. The only part of me that Alistair kept a grip on was my pinky. A pinky that had turned human. I couldn't reattach it."

"Shit, Rose," Edward said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Tell me this is your idea of a really, really distasteful joke."

"I wish I could." With hunched shoulders, Rosalie turned her gaze to the floor. "That wild energy… well. You know the rest. You've both seen plenty of storms. You've seen plants die and regenerate. That energy keeps reaching back through time and snapping forward, bringing people along for the ride. The level has gone down over the years, but not by much. Not enough. In recent years, it's even been getting stronger again. We still don't know why that is. It doesn't make sense. Perhaps it would if we had some help from Alistair, but we haven't seen him since the aftermath of the Surge. I became a vampire in the '30s; we think that's why so many time travelers are from that era. Beyond that, you know everything we know."

Neither Bella nor Edward said anything. Wringing her hands together, Rosalie inched toward the door.

"I just… I wanted you both to know before your change. I'm not going to try to talk you out of it—far from it—but I hated this life so much. I ruined so many lives trying to escape it. You deserved to know before you made your decision."

.

.

Mary's gloves were thin, offering Bella's hands as much protection from the elements as a layer of plastic wrap. The air had that crisp, waiting sort of smell that spoke of more snowstorms to come. Blowing on her fingers and bouncing her knees up and down, she stared at the pink and orange clouds rising over the white-capped hills. A new day.

A tiny stone whizzed past her left shoulder and skidded across the surface of the iced-over pond. Glancing back, she squinted up at Garrett.

"It's easier to skip stones when the pond is frozen," he said, sitting next to her on the fallen log she'd chosen as her bench. He kept his head bowed, as if constantly in prayer. "I hear Rose told you everything."

"Yeah."

Bella wished she could choose one train of thought and stick with it, rather than following twenty of them as they branched across her mind. The Surge was an accident. Rosalie had never intended to set the world on fire. If everything had gone as planned, Bella would never have known Edward. Jessica would have lived, but Bella might not have known her. The absence of the Surge would have kept her far away from Forks, living with a mother who never would have touched a red armband.

Millions of people who would have been better off clamored for attention. When she blinked, Bella saw Embry, Sam, Angela, Ben, Charlie. A rope swung through her thoughts, strangling the life out of the woman she and Edward had cut down in La Grande: that stranger with hair the color of caramel and eyes that longed for the end. Another blink, and she saw homes toppled by storms. She remembered rations and war and the stench of death. All of it because of something Rosalie wanted. How could all of that be forgiven? By _anyone_?

Bella didn't know if she'd ever again be able to see her friend when she looked at Rosalie, or if she would forever see the butterfly who started the hurricane.

Garrett touched her hand, cold even through the borrowed gloves.

"Are you still going to change?" he asked.

Bella nodded, no hesitation. If Edward was changing, so was she. There was no question about her remaining human and losing him—no question about watching him waste away.

"Would you like me to do it?" Garrett asked. "Alice thinks it'll be safer if Rose doesn't have to change both of you at once. Plus, I've done it before. I know I said I wasn't your guy, but I would've been, if she'd let me."

A broken smile tried to tug at the corners of Bella's mouth, going to war against the sting of tears. Ducking under Garrett's arm and leaning against him, she sighed. He smelled like Jessica—or maybe it'd been Jessica who had smelled like him during her final days. Either way, Bella breathed deep. She swallowed the truth of Jessica's death—how Jessica had changed her mind at the end and begged for Garrett. Bella would never tell him. That was one memory she would keep locked away and hope to forget as she burned into a vampire.

"Who did you change before?" she asked.

"Mary."

"Really? Huh. Were you friends when she was human?"

"No. I was curious. I wanted to see if I could stop in time." The smile he flashed at her wasn't his full smile. Not the one he used to direct at Jessica—the one that transformed his face from predator to protector.

At that moment, as Bella told him she'd love for him to be her sire, she decided that someday, she would bring that smile back. It would be difficult, she knew. Vampires seldom changed. They froze in one spot, like Rosalie had. But she had eternity stretching out ahead of her: an eternity to help Garrett find laughter again, like Jessica would have wanted.

Jessica would have wanted her to laugh, for that matter. Well, all she had was time.

A new thought splintered through her: Rosalie, working herself to the point of nearly shattering in the lab. Even now, Bella was sure she would find Rosalie out in the steel barn, putting their machines together and searching for a solution.

Bella closed her eyes.

.

.

Steam curled through the air, rising from the mug in Edward's hands. While he drank his last cup of coffee, Bella turned a bowl of dough out onto a floury counter and began kneading. Save themselves and Rosalie and Garrett, the house was empty. Only the swish of flour, the wet thump of fists against dough, an occasional sip, and the rhythm of their breath disturbed the quiet.

Setting his near-empty mug next to the sink, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and trailed kisses along her neck and shoulder.

"I'm going to miss this," he said. "I doubt we'll be doing much cooking after we're changed."

"Mm, probably not. We'll have to find a new form of couple's therapy."

Through the fabric of her shirt, she felt his lips lift into a smile. "Hunting, maybe? Jasper told me a bit about it."

"Oh, sure. Kneading bread, exsanguinating deer… it's all basically the same."

To demonstrate, she lunged at the white lump on the counter with her teeth bared. Chuckling, he turned her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. Her hands, still sticky with dough, left smears on his shoulders, but he didn't seem to notice or care. Everything about him—the taste of coffee, the scratch of stubble, the steadiness of his arms—felt like a bright morning back in Pendleton. Only the knowledge of a grave in Chicago spoiled the illusion. No matter how she tried, Bella couldn't make herself believe Jessica was back at the trailer, laughing at bad daytime TV and waiting for Bella to finish with work for the day.

Pulling back, Edward traced her lower lip with his thumb.

"I'm not going to tell you now," he said.

"Tell me what?"

His mouth opened and closed a few times before resolving into one of those grins that made him look like he'd invented the concept of smiling.

"Rose is wrong," he said. "I'll still feel the same. I know I will. I'll tell you after we've changed, just to prove it."

For the first time since Chicago, a tiny flutter danced through Bella's abdomen. She pressed a hand over it, as if trying to hold it there, protect it, and carry it with her into her new body.

"Are you sure you want this?" she asked, a pang threatening to drown out the flutter. "If you end up resenting me, I can't—"

"I won't. We aren't them. I know a little about what I'm getting into. Rose didn't have a clue. And just think: with all of that expanded brain power and time on our hands, maybe one of us will eventually figure out how to fix the world."

"Maybe," Bella said, shuffling her feet.

Tilting his head, he bent his knees so her gaze met his. "How are you doing? Are you mad at Rose?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I'm not sure what to think. It's… a lot to take in."

Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, he tapped the thumb of the other against her hip. "Yeah. Same here. I kind of _want _to be angry, even though I know she had no way of knowing what would happen. I've been looking for someone to blame since I was a kid."

"Me too. I usually settled on the Raiders."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. They're assholes. Let's keep blaming them."

Neither of them mentioned that if not for Rosalie, the Raiders never would have existed.

Once the bread had risen and baked, they ate it warm with butter. As far as last meals went, it wasn't much, but Bella had wanted to eat _something_ before all food lost its flavor forever. For dessert, Rosalie brought them each a crumbly cookie, wrapped in cellophane. Memories she hoped to keep flashed through Bella's mind: Edward, offering a similar cookie to Rosalie as a peace offering. Edward, giving desserts to Jessica just to make her smile.

"Ready?" Rosalie asked. Her eyes were light from her recent hunt. The color made Bella think of jars of Emmett's honey on a shelf in Pendleton, catching the sun.

Bella's leg muscles tightened, preparing to run as her pulse raced into a protest, but she forced her head to nod. One last kiss from Edward, and she made the long trip down the hall to the room where Garrett waited.

"I'm ready."


	19. Till a' the Seas Gang Dry

_**A/N: **__As always, huge thanks to thimbles for pre-reading, and thank you for reading. :) The next (last!) chapter might take a little bit longer; I__'m going to estimate three weeks, rather than two, so let's say June 16th. After that, there's just the epilogue._

* * *

**Till a****' the Seas Gang Dry**

The rasp of Garrett's throat clearing echoed off of bare walls. Floorboards groaned under his feet—back and forth, back and forth across the room. Stopping near the door, he cocked his head to one side. His almost-smile returned.

"She did it," he said as Edward's scream split the air.

Even Bella could hear Rosalie's feet racing over the ground, carrying her into the woods, away from the temptation of another drink.

"I have some things for you," Garrett said, retrieving a box of memories from a high shelf. "Rescued them from the lab and the sheriff's office back in Pendleton."

Bella went for the scrapbook of his drawings first, flipping through the pages and letting their breeze cool her skin. He'd added more sketches to the end; the dates in the corners were recent. Bella's fingertips hovered over a grayscale version of herself and Jessica, sitting at their table in the lab with their heads together, giggling over something. Then it was Bella, Jessica and Edward, cupcakes in hand, Jessica taking a big bite of hers. Bella and Jake talked on the next page while Seth and Jessica played Crazy Eights.

Biting her lip, Bella tucked the drawings under her pillow, like she used to do with textbooks after Tyler Crowley claimed it would help her remember what she'd studied. From the box, she picked up her bundle of key chains: the smiley face with chipped paint from Charlie, Renee's wedding ring, the tattered leather flower from Embry, one half of a "best friends forever" heart from a nine-year-old Jessica.

The only thing left of Garrett's offerings was Bella's old gun. Staring at it, she thought about how she used to cling to it like she could shoot the storms and protect everyone and everything she loved with a hail of bullets.

She didn't need it now. She left it in the box—a failure.

"When you wake up," Garrett said, "Jasper will be here. He has experience with newly changed vampires. He'll look different—lots of scars. Try to remember that he might seem dangerous, but he won't hurt you. You don't need to be afraid."

Remembering her encounter with him in the alley, Bella couldn't summon up anything but doubt, but she nodded anyway. Garrett helped her settle down on the bed, as if he feared she'd break herself. Pushing the hair back from her neck, he sucked in a deep breath and held it.

With her eyes clenched shut, Bella waited for the bite. Inch by inch, her shoulders crept up to shield her throat. It was all she could do to shove them back down again. By all accounts, this would hurt like nothing she'd ever felt.

Instead of teeth piercing her neck, a cold kiss brushed over Bella's cheek. Opening her eyes, she swatted Garrett's arm.

"Ow," he said, though she couldn't possibly have hurt him. "What was that for?"

"For faking me out. I was expecting a bite."

"Well, Christ. I'm about to risk my friend's life. I thought I should kiss her goodbye, just in case."

She forced out a chuckle and gripped his arm, trying to quiet her racing heart. "It's going to be fine. I trust you."

With one eyebrow raised, he drummed his thumbs against her hunched shoulders. As Bella drew in a shaky breath, Garrett moved the hair back from her forehead, his fingers skimming her skin like a blessing. This time, she kept her gaze on him as he leaned in.

He stopped.

"I can't do it with you _watching_ me like that."

A hand flew to her mouth to catch her giggles. From the way his smile stretched a little wider, she guessed he'd said it to make her laugh.

No sooner had Bella closed her eyes and squeezed the key chains in her fist than the breath of winter was on her neck. She thought of Jessica and Edward and Embry and Charlie and Angela and Rosalie and everything as teeth sank in and the fire began to burn.

.

.

Rosalie dipped a thick washcloth into a bowl of cool water before bringing it to Edward's forehead. In the next bed, Bella whimpered. Two days in, and both of her charges were in the same room. Alice had promised it would be safe.

Elsewhere in the house, she could hear Alice and Jasper discussing plans for the newborns' awakening. Jasper spoke about it like he was readying for war. Always the soldier. Garrett and Mary snapped twigs underfoot outside, walking through the forest together without words in that comfortable way only achievable by old friends.

Carlisle's office sat still and empty, screaming in its silence. It was best for everyone, he'd claimed, if he went to work with Tanya and Irina for the time being. Less conflict. More equipment, so he could make more of a difference in the lives of those suffering with MBS. When he'd kissed Rosalie's cheek and told her goodbye, it had felt like it, for the first time ever—like _goodbye_.

Familiar footsteps thumped down the hall and approached Rosalie's back.

"Two newborns at once," Emmett said. "That'll be one hell of an adventure."

As she turned to look at him, Rosalie caught a glimpse of herself in the darkened window—of her golden eyes laced with veins of red. That red wasn't a sign of failure; it was a badge of honor. Emmett beamed at her like it was still 1935 and he was just waking up. She felt like the temporal energy itself, always straining to reach something, then snapping back and destroying people in her wake. Maybe it was time to let go—completely—and finally look forward.

"I can put up with an adventure, as long as they don't regret it," she said.

"They won't." He stepped closer, his voice going soft and sweet. "This life isn't so bad."

Moving to the other bed, Rosalie pressed the cloth to Bella's cheek and was rewarded with a sigh. Bella was beginning to smell less like Garrett, and more like something entirely her own—a fusion of her blood and his venom, floral and warm.

"You're probably right," Rosalie said. Standing up, she let her gaze meet Emmett's. "I'm tired of looking back."

He hesitated, looking like he wanted to step forward—to touch her or kiss her or strangle her. Rosalie's perfect memory provided a replay of each of their _almosts_ that she'd spoiled. She ached to gather them up, throw them away, and start fresh. The invisible bond she'd always felt stretching between them pulled taut, like it wanted to either snap or tug her closer to him.

Emmett crossed his arms over his chest. One corner of his mouth lifted.

"Let me know when you're sure about that," he said.

Her shoulders sinking, Rosalie thought about all of the false maybes she'd offered him in years past.

"I don't deserve you," she said.

"I know." He grinned. "But it's cool, because I don't deserve you, either."

With a kiss of her forehead, he turned and walked away, leaving her with only the cries of her changing friends and the tug of that imaginary rope.

.

.

Everything was quiet in the echo of Bella's final heartbeat. Gradually, she became aware of breaths, of the voice of the wind, of a hiss that she would later come to recognize as falling snow. The pain dulled and migrated up to her throat, but she hardly noticed it. A new smell waited nearby—something that made her want to smile and burrow deeper into her pillows. Something like home.

"Bella?"

It was Rosalie's voice, and it wasn't. Bella opened her eyes to a sharper world. Edward sat on a bed across the room. Rosalie, Emmett, Garrett, and a scarred vampire Bella barely recognized as Jasper stood between them. Looking at the bright red of Edward's eyes, Bella almost missed the green, but something in her chest tugged her toward him—like a rope had found its way through the venom and tied itself around her now-quiet heart. As she took her first step as a vampire, Edward stopped rubbing his throat and stood up. Rosalie moved as if to shield Bella, but a scarred hand on her arm stopped her. In a slow, smooth drawl, Jasper promised everything was okay.

Giving the others a wide berth, Bella met Edward halfway. The pull in her chest felt almost like a heartbeat, fighting against her ribcage. As his fingertips brushed her cheek, his face split into a grin.

"I love you," he said, his hand flying back to his throat at the sound of his new voice. He conspired with the rope and drew her closer. "See? Told you I'd still feel the same."

Bella echoed the three words in a whisper, barely getting them out before she had to kiss him. For the first time, foreign venom tingled on her tongue, sweet and strange. It was like a puzzle piece clicking into place—like a ring sliding onto her finger. When Edward pulled back, he glanced over his shoulder at Jasper.

"Vampires have mates?" Edward asked. "Like birds? For life?"

"Yes," Jasper said through a frown. "They often do."

Turning his attention to Garrett, Edward added, "Because Jasper said it."

The others tilted their heads, looking for all their strength and immortality like a group of bemused kittens.

"No," Jasper said. "I didn't say a word about mates. I thought it. Garrett didn't say anything, either."

Emmett's eyes lit up. His head bobbed a few times. When Edward laughed and furrowed his brow, Emmett's grin grew even brighter.

"What was I just singing in my head?" Emmett asked.

"_Baby Got Back_. Why could I hear it?"

One by one, they went around the room, thinking of numbers between one and one million. Edward guessed each of them, until he came to Bella.

"Nothing," he said. "I can't hear you." Rubbing his temples, he winced. "Everyone else is so noisy."

"_Oh_," Garrett said after Edward's tenth failed attempt at guessing Bella's thoughts. "Maybe she's a shield. Like Renata, you know? Well, of course _you_ two don't know… except I suppose Edward does, now. Bella, Renata can shield physical attacks. Perhaps you can shield mental ones. Gifts sometimes manifest before someone is changed. That must be why Demetri couldn't find you. His power works by tracking peoples' minds."

"But he couldn't find me, either," Rosalie said. "He's never struggled with that before."

"Maybe Bella shielded you without realizing it," Garrett said. "Demetri got a lead on you once, but you vanished almost as soon as you popped up. By the time we reached where he'd last seen you, the trail had gone cold. You were probably on a hunt, I'd wager—the only time you would've been separated from Bella."

Jasper nodded. "You were all in a great deal of danger, and Bella cares deeply for you. It might be something she developed over years of trying to protect her loved ones."

Attempting to fit her new, expanded mind around this information, Bella wondered if, in a different world, this gift she only half-understood would have sat dormant—if she would have needed it if her closest brush with death on an average day was rush hour traffic. Perhaps it always would have been there, taking up space like a vestigial organ.

Edward squinted at Bella. "I can't decide whether being able to read everyone's mind but yours is a good thing or a bad thing."

Bella chose to see it as the former. Letting anyone—even Edward—see her every thought would leave her too vulnerable, too naked.

"Would you two like to hunt?" Jasper asked.

Next to Edward's declaration of love, it was the sweetest thing Bella had heard since she woke up. Jasper stayed close to her and Edward as they moved toward the front of the house, holding himself as tense as a coiled spring. Outside, Alice and Mary waited for them.

"Hey, Sis," Mary said with a cautious tug of Bella's hair. Her deep red eyes matched Edward's. No contacts helped her keep up the pretense of being human. Unmelting snowflakes dusted her hair and clothes, sparkling with her skin in the sun that peeked through the clouds.

It took Bella a few seconds to remember that Garrett had sired both her and Mary, linking them with his venom. Had Jessica given in to Garrett's pleas, she would have been part of that chain as well.

The white-shrouded landscape was one Bella barely recognized. Looking around at the forest and the sprawling cabin, she wondered what it would have been like to wake up with Jessica—that hazy ghost of a girl who took up so many of Bella's human memories. Would Jessica have possessed a secret talent as well? She would have pouted and sulked if she hadn't. She was the super villain who was slated to take over the world, after all. She was supposed to be the one with superpowers.

Closing her eyes, Bella tried to imagine Jessica eating a cupcake after her change just to make sure it actually tasted bad to her. It was like looking at something through water. No matter how Bella concentrated, she couldn't make the picture stop wavering—couldn't transport it from her past to her present.

"You okay?" Edward asked.

Leaning against him and smiling to chase away his frown, Bella peeked beneath the collar of Edward's shirt. The healed tattoos were fainter, but still there, creating a map of his human life on smooth, perfect skin. Not a lesion in sight.

"Can I help you?" he asked with a laugh that hadn't changed at all.

"Just checking."

"Everything still there?"

She smiled. "No."

When he realized what she meant, a long sigh left his body, as if he'd been worried Margaret Brown would chase him into eternity.

Alice announced that she and Jasper would follow Edward on his hunt, since he'd be more difficult. Mary accompanied them; she liked a challenge. Being separated from Edward so soon wasn't Bella's favorite idea, but she could still feel that tether around her heart. She knew where he was.

With their babysitters decided, they set off in opposite directions. The forest was a new world—more alive than Bella would have expected of anything so frozen. All around her, hot breath swirled into fog, hearts thudded, claws scraped, wings flapped. And at the center, Bella stood with no heartbeat, no need for breath, no need for movement. She had never felt so separate from anything.

Rosalie and Garrett's hands pressed in the middle of her back, guiding her deeper into the riotous sounds of life, urging her into a run. Her hair flew out behind her like a cape, and she missed Jessica. Flashes of her old life flooded her with each footstep. Committing them to memory in this body, knowing no new memories of Jessica would join the old ones, was like watching her die all over again.

As the heartbeats drew nearer, promising relief with each thump, the burn in Bella's throat grew until all she could think of was her thirst. The mere suggestion of blood yanked her forward just as surely as Edward had, telling her to bite and drink and drain.

The moose went down easy, but its blood didn't. Each putrid mouthful was a far cry from what Bella thought she remembered of cupcakes. She felt like she'd gone out to the dumpster behind the bar and started exploring it with her tongue. Still, it quieted the screams of the fire. It made it bearable.

"Yeah," Emmett said with a grimace. He was at least fifty feet away, but she could hear him and see his expression as if he stood next to her. "Been there. Tastes like ass, huh?"

Bella wiped her mouth. "That's an insult to asses everywhere."

"I'll apologize to Aro next time I see him, then."

Bella couldn't remember who Aro was, exactly, but she still laughed.

.

.

Stretching out on her stomach, Bella tried to yawn. It felt shallow, like the air couldn't reach way down deep into her lungs no matter how much she breathed in. The floor beneath her bare skin didn't feel cold and hard, like it would have when she was human. It was the same temperature as her. The knowledge that she could rake a hand through it with no effort made her think of tilled earth. Edward's fingers traveled up and down her spine, his mouth nipping at Garrett's bite mark on her neck.

"I miss sleep," he said. "And sweat."

"Really?" When he nodded, she poked his shoulder. "You weirdo. I miss _food_."

A chuckle breezed through his lips. "Yeah, I miss that, too. But I don't know. Work won't feel like work without sweat. Won't feel like much of an accomplishment if it's too easy. Sometimes, I liked being so tired at the end of the day that I barely had the energy to crawl between the sheets. Made me feel like I'd really_ done_ something."

"Hmm. Having regrets?"

"Not at all." Reaching under their bed, he grabbed a pair of discarded socks and threw them into the growing mountain in the corner. Bella had no idea why she'd started piling up her socks, only that it made the place feel more like hers. "Just thinking about the pros and cons of being a human versus being a vampire. I'll take thirst and a lack of sweat and sleep over…" He paused, as if reformulating his immediate response, removing the sting. When she rolled to her side, his hand went to her breast. He didn't add, "Over dying too young."

"What do you think will happen if we actually manage to fix the world?" she asked. "What if it resets everything and you go back to your time?"

"Then I guess I'll have a long wait ahead of me," he said, scooting closer until the length of his body was pressed against hers. "Can't promise I won't spy on you when you're younger, either. I know me. I'd get curious, especially after waiting for the better part of a century for you to even be born." His voice gentled, like he'd pierced through her shield and glimpsed the secret hope that was only just starting to brew—the ridiculous notion that she could save everyone—or anyone—she'd lost. "I don't think that'll happen, though. I really don't."

Bella knew he was right. There were no do-overs. No second chances. This was it. This was all they got.

.

.

Buttons created a new carpet in Bella and Edward's room, scattering across the honey colored floorboards with each new shirt Bella chose. Three weeks as a vampire, and getting dressed without borrowing from Edward's side of the closet was still a struggle. She couldn't understand why Alice and Mary hadn't selected any clothes that she could pull on over her head. Every time she selected a new victim and attempted to fasten it, its buttons went flying: hundreds of plastic casualties of her new strength.

Rosalie's voice entered the room a second after her scent.

"May I help you?"

It was the "may" that swayed Bella. Rosalie hadn't said, "Let me do that," or, "Here, give it to me." It was a question—almost pleading—not an attempt to barge in and take over.

"Okay," Bella said.

Silky fabric climbed up Bella's arms, guided by Rosalie's fingers. One by one, Rosalie slipped the buttons into their holes with so little effort that Bella almost wanted to smack her hands away.

"It takes practice to be gentle," Rosalie said. "You'll get it, with time."

Lingering over the final button, Rosalie risked a smile. Something in that smile made a question leap up Bella's throat.

"You wanted kids, didn't you? I remember that, from before."

"I wanted a _baby_." Rosalie's touch flitted from the button to Bella's shoulders to her hair. "For all of the wrong reasons. Not that it matters much now."

The tickle of Rosalie's fingers moving through Bella's hair made Bella think of lullabies—of lectures and protective arms and kisses on bandaged wounds. Bella thought she remembered Rosalie's voice soothing her through the burn, offering her an anchor.

"You're going to have to do this for me for a while, huh?" Bella asked.

"I can, if you want. I don't mind. Or Alice or Mary could."

"Hey, I'll do it," Emmett shouted from somewhere downstairs, prompting a laughing eye roll from both of them.

Perhaps this conversation was why the all-seeing Alice had chosen button-up shirts. Muddy visions of the past few years paraded through Bella's mind, love twisting together with resentment. This was the woman who had caused the Surge. This was the woman who had rescued Bella from the Feds. This was the woman who had broken Emmett's heart. This was the woman who had refused to change Jessica until it was too late.

This was the woman whose face appeared when Bella thought of her mother.

There wasn't forgiveness—not yet—but they had time. Life didn't give do-overs, but Bella could. She could believe in second chances, just this once. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a quick kiss to Rosalie's cheek.

"I'd like it if you helped me."

Rosalie beamed.

.

.

It took three expanding circles around the cabin before Emmett chose a spot. According to him, flowering bushes would join the sheltering evergreen hedge, come spring. The ideal spot for his bees.

"Here," he said, making an "X" with his toe. "Facing southeast. Plenty of drainage. Hmm. Yep. This should be perfect. We'll set up the woodenware now. I'll get the bees later in the year."

Bella tried to picture the dappled sunlight, the green grass, the pink and white petals. With that image in mind, she remembered Emmett as her human self always saw him: surrounded by a buzzing, black and yellow cloud, waving at her as she left the lab every day.

"Are you going to open another bar?" she asked.

Dropping a load of wood on the ground, he adjusted his eye patch. It was the blue one—the one Bella had sewed to match her idea of what his eyes had looked like when he was human.

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "It was fun, for the most part. Easy way to blend in with the locals, since the hours worked with us not going out in the sun. Can't offer you another job there just yet, though. Eating the customers is bad for business."

"Mm. I suppose I can forgive you."

Without so much as a glance at the boxes they were supposed to be constructing for his future bees, Emmett sprawled out on the ground and leaned back on his elbows. Bella was tempted to find a beer to place in his hand in order to complete the picture. Of all of them, Emmett always seemed closest to being human. Alistair should have tried his gift on Emmett to start out with. It probably would have taken less effort.

Thinking of Alistair led Bella's mind to the second, third, twentieth chances Emmett must have given Rosalie over the years.

"Why are you still in love with her?" she asked, keeping her voice as low as possible. "Rose, I mean. All of the stuff with Carlisle… I don't know if I could—or even _should—_have put up with it for eighty years."

He kicked up some snow, stretching his legs out. Like always, he spoke louder than her—louder than everyone. Emmett lived life with the volume turned up.

"I'm not blameless. I told you before that you didn't know the full story. Do you remember that? I said it to you after you got all pissy with me for using a human girl to make Rose jealous. It wasn't the first time I did that to her, either."

He glanced toward the barn, where Bella could pick up the faintest sound of Rosalie typing away at her computer, making charts, reassembling their battle station.

"I'm still here because I always knew _that_ was in her," Emmett said. "That drive to help. Even back when most people would tell you she thought about herself more than anything else. Which, okay, she did. Probably still does, but so what? So do most people. Plus, she gets me, y'know? And I get her."

Recalling some of their more explosive fights, Bella strained to keep the doubt out of her tone when she asked, "You do?"

"Yeah. I didn't always. I went into it all wrong at first. Some bad stuff happened to her before her change, and looking at the way Carlisle was with her, I thought… I dunno. They weren't going anywhere, and Rose and I were drawn to each other, so I thought I could be the one to patch her up, somehow. Make it better. Took me a long time to realize that was what I wanted, not what she needed. I still don't get it right, most days, but neither does she. Maybe that's why we fit."

The typing stopped. Bella kept quieter than quiet, fighting to catch Rosalie's reaction. Perhaps her heightened senses could track a smile spreading over Rosalie's face from this distance.

"There are other reasons, too," Emmett said.

"Like what?"

He waggled his eyebrows. "She has an _amazing_ rack." Jumping to his feet, he tousled Bella's hair. "Hey, you thirsty? Come on. This stuff can wait. Let's go hunt."

.

.

Bella dodged between trees, Edward's hand clasped in hers. Whenever he lost focus and immersed himself in the hunt, he moved faster than even her newborn-strong legs could carry her. Over the course of the past couple of months, they had started hunting together, with fewer other companions. Only Garrett and Emmett accompanied them on this trip.

The wind shifted. A faint scent—too delicious to be real—slammed into Bella. Venom pooled in her mouth. The others echoed her gasp.

"Hey!" Emmett shouted. "Wait!"

He was too late. Breaking free from Bella's hold, Edward hurtled toward the barely audible flutter of two heartbeats. Bella chased after him, no hesitation. She'd never been so thirsty. Not even when she'd first opened her eyes to this life. Her vague memories of chocolate and strawberries came close to the scent that called her forward, but this was something _more_. Something she had to have.

A rusted scrap heap of a car sat on the side of the seldom-used road, a woman with red hair and a pulse that chanted Bella's name poking around beneath its hood. The woman didn't have time to look up before her limbs crumpled beneath the impact of Edward's body.

Some voice in the back of Bella's mind shouted a protest, but the wisp of conscience vanished as the woman's blood spilled onto the frozen ground. Tearing the door off of the car, Bella fell on the woman's shrieking companion. Her teeth pierced the skin, and she knew bliss.

It tasted like nothing had ever tasted. Sweet and perfect and hers. Bella kept pulling, kept trying to drink long after the last drop, hoping and begging for more. It was only when she gave up that clarity sliced through her—that she saw a thin woman with curly brown hair and vacant eyes sprawled out across the back seat.

"Oh, God," Bella whispered, jumping when Garrett touched her shoulder.

Edward leaned against the front of the car. Bowing his head, he slammed his eyes shut.

"Hey," Emmett said. "It's okay. We've all had slips. Hell, Garrett killed a _lot_ of people on purpose back in his day. We're talking thousands. And Jasper… whew. Mary still does it. And, okay, I've done a few on purpose, too. It happens."

Bella didn't think it absolved her. She saw a different face on the girl—someone else's Jessica. Someone's _someone_. A life cut short.

And still, she wanted more.

"I could read their minds," Edward said. "They were scared, and—" Catching Bella's gaze, he stopped short, swallowed the words. His eyes shone a guilty red.

When Garrett took them both by the arm, Bella and Edward let him lead them back to the house, leaving Emmett to clean up their mess.

.

.

Bark that should have scratched Bella's skin felt as smooth and fragile as paper. Climbing as high as the tree would allow, she swung her legs over one of its thicker limbs. Edward swayed in the neighboring branches, lost in listening to his own thoughts. Bella couldn't stop replaying their kills—couldn't stop wanting to do it again. In the distance, she could hear Rosalie trudging around the lab, working slower than a human, like the weight of what they'd done pressed down on her.

Deliberate footsteps below swished through the snow. Jasper never sneaked up on them—inasmuch as one _could_ surprise a vampire. He jumped, and a nearby tree creaked under his weight, icicles falling from its evergreen boughs. He let the forest settle until its wild sounds once again filled all of the cracks before he opened his mouth to speak.

"It's your choice, you know," he said. "Whether you eat humans or animals is entirely up to you."

Bella thought those cards had been dealt years ago, when she walked into a lab and heard, "Hi. Bella and Jessica, right? I'm Rosalie. As long as you aren't incompetent and you stay out of my way, we'll get along fine." Or perhaps it had been earlier, when Charlie had taken her to the Stanleys' house and introduced her to a girl who had been crying over the crushed remains of a ladybug that had wandered into her jump-roping path. Or when Embry had explained why the wolves existed. Or when Rosalie had become _Rose_.

Jasper's own choice had become evident in his eyes. They'd started their migration back to gold since Alice's return, now an orangey-red.

"I _can_ read minds," Edward said. "We could target the ones who plan to do horrible things. We could save innocent people."

Jasper licked his lips, like he was tasting Edward and Bella's emotions swirling in the air. "You could. As I said, it's your decision to make." Turning to Bella, he added, "While we're on the subject, I'm not certain if you remember our encounter in the alley behind the bar, but I feel an apology is long overdue. I'm sorry."

Edward's gaze snapped to Jasper. "You almost _killed_ her?"

"He did. Emmett stopped him, though."

Bella surprised herself with the way she said it—like it was as everyday as, "He bumped into me," or, "He knocked my drink over." She supposed it was everyday to her, now. She could understand why he had been tempted. The only thing she couldn't comprehend was how any of the vampires managed to resist.

"Apology accepted," she said.

Without wanting to, she thought, again, of the smell of the humans. Of the taste. After that encounter, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself from going after a good human in order to chase the bad ones. Not yet.

Jessica had once said she didn't want to hurt anyone. That was something Bella remembered too clearly. Jessica hadn't wanted anyone to die just so she could live. Bella focused on the memories she had of her lost friend, turning each one over in her mind, trying to assemble the whole girl from the parts.

She thought Jessica must have been brave.

"I want to stick to animals," Bella said. "For now, at least."

Even as she said it, Bella knew she wouldn't change her mind once she passed beyond this haze of blood lust. She wouldn't reconsider.

She wanted to be brave.

.

.

Turning pages, Bella discovered, helped her practice being gentle. She started with newspapers and things no one would miss, eventually moving on to things she wanted to read. In the lab, she leafed through every book they had—volumes she'd only managed to skim in her scarce free time as a human.

She'd known a good deal before her change, but there had been other demands on her attention. Her life had been a fractured thing, split between too many demands for her time. As much as she missed Jessica, she didn't miss that feeling of constantly running and getting nowhere. Acknowledging this, even to herself, made a weight sink in her stomach.

"Come on, Rose," Edward's voice came from the far corner of the barn. "I showed you earlier. I have enough control—"

"You showed me how you can destroy a perfectly good set of tools. Not a chance. This is a delicate instrument. More importantly, it's expensive."

"I couldn't do any more damage to it than you are."

Rosalie's toes tapped against the packed earth floor. Both she and Edward lay beneath the machine in question like it was a car.

"Insulting me isn't going to help you get your way," she said.

"It's how I show affection. With you, at least. And I think you should show your affection for me by letting me _do_ something."

"Oh, for the love of… If you shut up about this, I'll let you drive my car."

"Really?"

"No. Of course I won't. Are you new?"

Bella smiled to herself. She still felt no urge to compete with Edward for a chance to tinker with gears and switches. What she had in her hands did a far better job of capturing her interest: a volume of notes from Carlisle on the effect of wild temporal energy on humans. She was learning new languages as she went along, going back and forth between the notes and dictionaries. He'd woven together at least five different languages in what she'd read so far.

Scanning page after page, bits of conversation and knowledge from her own life weaving together with Carlisle's precise handwriting, Bella remembered how the energy had prevented the wolves from phasing. It had weakened them when they walked in human form. She wondered if the energy was so at odds with their bodies because it came from a vampire—if introducing their blood into a regular, non-supernatural person made the lesions vanish not because the wolves could heal themselves, but because they were built to kill what that life-destroying energy came from.

Switching her focus from the notes to Edward, Bella said a silent word of thanks that his change had completed—that what little might have remained of Paul's blood hadn't gone to war with Rosalie's venom.

"Edward Rosalie Masen," Rosalie said. "Give that back."

"Edw… _what_?"

Taking advantage of his distraction, Rosalie snatched the stolen wrench out of his hand. "What, you don't want to take my name? I changed you."

"Cute," Emmett said as he strolled into the lab. "We could call you Eddie Rose."

Stealing the wrench back from Rosalie, Edward scoffed. "Yeah. You do that. We'll see how it works out for you, given that I have unlimited access to your thoughts."

Bella cracked a smile as Rosalie's leg scooted across the floor to kick Edward's shin. Those two had to be back on the road to normal—whatever normal was between them.

After claiming Rosalie's usual seat and firing up her computer, Emmett wrinkled his nose.

"You looking at Carlisle's stuff?" he asked.

"Yeah. Thinking about the wolves. Do you think he still has any samples of their blood?"

"If it was here, you'd smell it. Trust me. Even in a sealed vial. When we came here, he still had a bit from that cranky one—"

"Paul. Hmm. I'll have to call him and ask. I wish we could get Alistair into the lab, too, but I don't see that happening anytime soon."

"Yeah. He's not exactly interested in being found. And Demetri's an unhelpful little…"

As Emmett's voice trailed off, Edward abandoned his battle, sitting up and staring toward the green glow of the computer as if readying himself for a new war. One of his hands slid down his face, leaving a trail of engine grease in its wake. Seeing that smear of black made Bella feel a little better, in an odd way. Like it was a piece of home—a scrap of their old life.

Emmett barked out a laugh, slapping his palm against the desk hard enough to rattle the monitor. "We are a bunch of idiots."

"What?" Bella asked. "Why?"

"Not one of us thought to have Edward read Demetri's mind," Emmett said, waving his arms at the man in question. "Well, I did, but not until just now."

"Oh, my God," Rosalie said, scooting out from beneath the machine. "We _are_ idiots."

Rosalie rubbed her forehead, leaving a grease stain to match Edward's. Emmett chuckled, but left the mark where it was when he wheeled his chair toward her.

Bella wondered if they would've thought of using Edward sooner, if they hadn't had to deal with the issues of two newly changed vampires—if she and Edward had come to the others fully formed, already in control of their strength and thirst. Spinning in his chair, Emmett flashed Bella a dimpled grin.

"Road trip."


	20. Oh, Never Leave Me

_**A/N: **__Thank you to thimbles for prereading and to you for reading. :) The epilogue will go up in a few days._

* * *

**Oh, Never Leave Me**

"Hold my hand," Rosalie said, lacing her fingers together with Edward's.

The moonlight slanting through the trees turned the snow into a field of glitter, looking almost like sunshine bouncing off of Rosalie's skin. So far, they'd traveled along the edge of civilization, keeping Edward far from the temptation of human blood. Only Emmett and Jasper had accompanied them to find Demetri; the others waited at home. The further they went, the more Edward glanced back over his shoulder and rubbed the center of his chest.

Edward stared at their joined hands. As one side of his mouth lifted up, he gave Rosalie a nudge with his elbow.

"I'm flattered," he said, "but didn't I already tell you that I'm taken?"

She pinched his side. "Idiot." The way her voice warmed around the insult, she knew it sounded more like an endearment. Dodging his retaliatory snowball, she added, "I want you to squeeze my hand when you get what we need from Demetri. Do _not_ let him know you can read his mind. And don't mention Bella's gift, either. I don't want Aro trying to collect either of you. Actually, it's probably best if you just don't speak."

The snow and trees led them further north, to the place where one of their contacts had seen Demetri tracking some potential talent. Behind her back, Rosalie crossed the fingers of her free hand and made a wish for everything to go smoothly. This had to work. It had to.

They found their target waiting at the edge of a Canadian ghost town, leaning against a charred brick wall, arms and ankles crossed. He looked at Edward as if spotting a fresh meal.

"A new one?" Demetri asked. "Any special talents?"

Rosalie scoffed. "Talents?" she said, her voice too high and bright. She swallowed a mouthful of venom, biting back a wince at the burn. "Please. I have to hold his hand or he runs off." Rolling her eyes, she felt herself ease into the lie, like trying on a different jacket, a different life. She searched out the spots where she fit, smoothing the rough patches. "_Newborns_. You know how it is."

"Indeed." Demetri's gaze—those red, red eyes—never left Edward. In the semi-dark, with his sallow skin and constant smirk, Demetri looked like the monsters Rosalie thought she'd dreamed up when she was tiny and human.

"It's good to see you, Rosalie," he said. "I thought we'd lost you forever."

"Mm. No such luck." Fear coated her tongue, sweet and thick. She couldn't tell if it was her own, or the remnants of Demetri's recent meal—the taste of the human's death cry hanging in the air. "I'm afraid I'm still here. And since you're here as well, you know I'm going to pester you with the same question I always ask."

Demetri unfolded his arms and stretched up to his full height. The movement was slow and luxurious, like he derived pleasure from keeping her waiting. He probably did. Next to her, only a twitch of Edward's mouth and a clench of his jaw revealed what might have rolled through Demetri's mind.

"And I am afraid I will offer you the same answer I always do," Demetri said. "If Alistair wanted to be found, he would come to you. I am not here to do your bidding." Leaning forward, he finally turned his face toward Rosalie. His easy smile and indulgent laugh left her wondering if he would pat her head, give her a new toy, and send her off to play. "Why are you so eager to fix everything? Let the humans' world fall apart, provided their blood keeps flowing. You would be more content if you gave in to your true nature."

"And if the humans kill each other off, what then? You'll be forced to adopt my diet and go against your supposed true nature." Irritation scraped at the back of her teeth when she shut her mouth, screaming to be let out. Struggling to keep the soft, flirtatious veil over her features, she rolled her shoulders as if she believed she could still dispel the tension bunching in her body by relaxing muscles that could never strain. "Humans aren't the only ones affected by the storms. Jasper lost his mate for years when she was pulled through time."

"For years," Demetri said, his posture perking up. "Alice is back now, yes?" He closed his eyes, then gave a quick nod. "In Montana."

Rosalie kept her expression steady as her mind veered onto a dozen different routes at once. Bella's shield wasn't protecting Alice. Maybe it only worked on those she loved or only in times of great danger, since it was an unconscious thing. Maybe Alice was away from her, on a hunt. Maybe something had happened to one or both of them.

"Yes," Rosalie said, "but didn't you tell me, last time we met, that members of the guard have gone missing?"

Edward squeezed her hand—_hard_. Her flesh creaked under his grip, a small crack zigzagging up her palm like a storm.

"I did," Demetri said, angling his body back toward the wall. His gaze shifted back to Edward. "Still. I gave Alistair my word."

Rosalie wondered when his word had counted for anything. As he moved his focus to Emmett and Jasper, Demetri looked on the verge of asking why she brought the silent bodyguards—why they weren't back in the lab, why Jasper wasn't with his long-lost mate. With that, Rosalie launched into her standard farewell.

"If you change your mind…"

"I won't."

And then Jasper made something up about a hunt, and Rosalie found herself tugging Edward along after her as she ran, half looking for something to kill, half concentrating on getting away. Once they were well out of earshot, Edward jerked her to a stop.

"Jesus," he said. "What a liar."

Emmett chuckled. "Yeah, tell us something we don't know."

Edward pressed his lips together and shook his head as if to say, "You asked for it."

"Apparently, Alistair can control the storms."

.

.

Alice rubbed her forehead and squinted like she was trying to see something in the distance. Balling her hands into fists, she groaned.

"Are you all right?" Bella asked.

"Yeah. Fine. Just trying to look for Alistair. Back when we were working together, he became an expert at dodging me by making multiple decisions at once. Looks like he's still doing it. Not to mention, my power just isn't what it was before the Surge."

Pinning her restless arms against her stomach, Alice ducked her head. Bella couldn't help but think of everything that had gone wrong with them finding Renee. Touching Alice's arm, she prepared a soothing lie like she once would have dished up comfort food.

"It's o—"

"_Oh_." Alice jumped out of her chair and bounced on the balls of her feet. "We're going to have a visitor. Any minute now."

Bella narrowed her eyes. "Good or bad?"

"Good. Someone you know, actually."

The visitor didn't knock. Tanya let herself in, like she was the omnipresent, cheerfully intrusive neighbor in a sitcom. It took Bella a few seconds to remember where she'd seen those strawberry blond curls and that ever-smiling mouth. Her memories of Tanya were few and far between, scattered with the more powerful images of Embry's death and Jessica's return.

In one hand, Tanya held a padded box that reeked of death and decay. Bella clapped a hand over her mouth and nose, almost wishing she could still throw up to rid herself of the taste.

"Oh, I _know_," Tanya said, swinging Alice around in a tight hug before sweeping Bella up in an embrace. "Horrible, is it not? Wolf blood. From the grumpy one, and as stinky as he is. Carlisle asked me to bring it to you. I will be glad to be rid of it. Goodness, you make a pretty vampire! Doesn't she, Alice? Really, it suits you."

"Hi," Bella said.

Tanya giggled. "Hi." Setting the box down, she clasped one of Bella's hands between both of hers. The lines of her beautiful face softened until her smile vanished. "How are you, truly? I was so sorry to hear about Jessica."

"I'm… okay."

"Good. Irina sends her love as well. If there is anything we can do…"

Tanya let the offer trail off and hover in the air. Bella accepted it with thanks, turning her attention to the box and letting out a sigh when Alice drew Tanya into a conversation on a different topic.

Inside the padding and layers of tape, a sealed vial of Paul's blood was wrapped in a note from Carlisle.

_Dear Bella,_

_As you requested, here is my last sample from your friends. If you have any questions, please don__'t hesitate to contact me. I'll be happy to help._

—_Carlisle_

This was it. Time to test the theory she'd been brewing. Cringing, Bella popped the top off of the vial and placed a drop of blood on her tongue. Rotting, overpowering fire blazed through her mouth. It felt like it wanted to fight its way out of her body—like it wanted to tear her apart.

As the inferno calmed and Tanya and Alice stared at her in disbelief, Bella thought back to how Alistair had needed to drink buckets of blood in order to power the force behind the Surge. She thought, too, about how she believed wolf blood might interact with temporal energy—how their bodies tried to fight it because it came from what they were built to conquer. And she thought of her own quavering voice, asking Rosalie to never allow her to go to Yellowstone, where the wolves were.

"Bella?" Alice said on the tail of a gasp, her eyes wide. "Why did my vision of you just go black? What are you planning?"

Looking at what remained of the blood, Bella squared her shoulders. "Road trip."

.

.

"I still say this is crazy."

Even with her vampire hearing, Bella almost lost Alice's words in the wind whistling past her ears. Her lungs operated on old memories, drawing air in too fast as her legs pumped.

Jake wouldn't kill her. She was almost sure. It was only her lungs that remained unconvinced.

"Then why did you come along?" Bella asked.

"Are you kidding? Edward and Rosalie would fight over who got to roast my corpse if I let you go off alone after the big nothing I saw. Not to mention Garrett—who, by the way, is just now realizing that we aren't out for a hunt. He's worried."

"Nice guilt trip."

"Thanks."

"I think it will be fine," Tanya said, her arms spreading wide as if to greet the forest and embrace the great, harsh wind. "You said yourself that your visions are erratic, and Jacob Black is not as bad as you might think."

"Tanya." Alice's nose wrinkled as if she'd caught a whiff of Jake's scent. "Tell me you didn't."

"Tell me you _did_," Bella said. "If Jake slept with the enemy, then he might not get so pissed at me for becoming one of them."

Tanya gave a toss of her hair. "I spoke with him a few times about our rules and the treaty. Nothing more. Gutter minds."

Before Bella or Alice could respond, they ran into a stench so powerful, the force of it was like hitting a wall.

"You two, climb a tree," Bella said. "I don't want you down here when they show up."

"You do realize they could set fire to the tree with us in it," Alice said.

"Climb it anyway. It'll make me feel better if you're out of their biting range. They're less likely to attack me."

_I hope_, she added in the safety of her mind. While Alice and Tanya shimmied up a pair of evergreens, Bella wrapped her arms around herself and turned in a full circle. Having her back exposed with that foul, wrong scent in the air left her feeling as if an attack would come at any minute, from any side. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.

"I forgot the lyrics," she said after a few minutes of grasping for the right words and feeling them sift through her fingers. "Every stupid one. Shit. I can't remember any of the songs we always sang to call them."

Even though she knew it wouldn't endear her to Jake, Bella sang the only song that wasn't so dusty and cobwebbed that she could no longer see it. An old joke, she thought.

"How much is that doggy in the window? The one with the waggly tail?"

Heartbeats and rapid footsteps interrupted the song. The wolf that snarled and crashed through the trees was dark gray. Not Jake. Bella had just enough time to think Paul's name before he was there, right in front of her, his mouth snapping and his smell and heat overpowering. Bella's lips pulled back, revealing her own sharp teeth as a growl rose up her throat without her bidding.

"Stop."

The deep order shot straight to Bella's bones. She kept her teeth bared, but Paul shrank back as if pulled by a chain. Jake stepped into the light, his mouth set in a firm line, his gaze locked on Bella.

Paul looked at her like he had for years, but there was a new layer to it now, as searing as his blood. In another life, Jake had claimed that Paul only hated Bella's association with the vampires. He didn't hate her. Well, now he did, she supposed.

Dangling from a branch overhead, Alice pointed at the wolves. "It's _you_. Everything went black as soon as you got here."

"Huh?" Jake said.

"She can see the future," Bella said. "Except yours, I guess."

Jake moved too close. The heat rolling off of him pushed Bella to run, run, _run_. Get out of there. Save herself. Gritting her teeth, she stood her ground. He was still Jake, and she was still Bella.

"Why did you come here?" he asked. Had his voice always rumbled in that deep way?

"Jessica died," Bella said. Watching the shadow of that knowledge pass over his face, she rubbed the spot on her chest that still felt anchored to Edward. It didn't make the words better or easier, but it helped her keep standing there.

Nearby, something with a heart as big and slow as Jake's let out a whimper. Seth, unless Bella was mistaken.

"I know you don't want to see me," Bella said, "but since I changed, I've come up with a few ideas about how to stop the storms. Only problem is I need you in order to do it."

"Why?"

"I need your blood."

No point in stalling or dancing around the issue. Blood was why he'd left her; she remembered that much. Blood had bound them together in a fight to save a dying girl. Blood had sent him running out of her life.

Jake's nostrils flared and his temperature climbed, but he didn't turn and walk away, so Bella rushed into an explanation of Alistair's power and her theories about how to fix the world.

"So _they_ did this?" Jake asked. "Everything? It's all their fault?"

"Yes, and I'm asking you to help stop it." A string stretched taught inside her, protesting at talking of Rosalie as if she was unforgivable. "You won't have to hide anymore. If it works, you'll be able to phase when you want—or not at all, if you want to stop altogether."

Jake brushed a fingertip against Bella's cheek. Fire followed the path tears used to take. His face was still set in the same expression it had hardened into when she'd told him of Jessica's death.

"I should kill them for doing this to you," he said.

"I asked for it. Edward was dying. You weren't coming back. Who did I have to stay human for? And they—" she gestured at Alice and Tanya, "—had nothing to do with my change, so don't get any bright ideas. I can still kick your ass."

Jake's cheek twitched with the threat of a smile that didn't follow through. "Still? When did you ever? Your memories really do get damaged during the transformation, don't they?"

"I've missed you," she said, because it was true. "Jerk." Holding her breath, she risked a playful shove of his shoulder. "Look, I'm still _me_, whether you believe it or not. And I swear to you, you'll be safe. Probably safer than you are here." The words felt familiar on her tongue. Had they had this argument before, in another life? "Just one experiment. Give me that much. I'm sorry for the way we left things before. I really am. This is so much more important than some stupid grudge. Please, Jake. If it doesn't work, I'll leave you alone forever."

When Jake shifted his weight from foot to foot, his warmth passed over Bella like the sun rising and setting again and again. Releasing a long breath between pursed lips, he held a hand up as if to ward her off. A rustle from the bushes brought a wolf with sandy colored fur plodding toward them on over-sized paws. Seth stood next to Bella, his wet nose nudging her arm. Doing her best to remember how to be gentle, Bella touched the wiry fur on the side of his neck. The whoosh and thump of his blood and heart didn't tempt her.

"Why am I not surprised?" Jake said. "Bells, I don't know. Shit. You really think it could work?"

"Only one way to find out."

Both of Jake's hands raked through his uneven hair. He still looked strong, but his body was leaner; she could see the ribs beneath his skin when he stretched. The holey cut-offs hanging low on his hips looked like they were held together mostly by luck.

"I'm not promising anything," Jake said. "If I think we might not be safe, we're gone. If any of the bloodsuckers… don't give me that look, Tanya. Any of them kill an innocent human, and we do what we were made to do. Participation will be strictly voluntary. Anyone who wants to stay here can. Christ, what am I doing?"

"When you say _innocent human_," Bella said, thinking of Mary, "do Raiders count?"

"Fuck no. Lesser of two evils, remember?"

She did. Sort of.

A slender wolf with silvery fur came shooting toward them and nipped at Seth's heels. Leah. Bella had expected that. If Seth was going to run with vampires, his big sister would chase after him to make sure he was safe. What Bella hadn't expected was the dark brown wolf who growled and grumbled on his approach, but bumped his forehead against her shoulder. Quil. He didn't look at her any more than he had when she was human, but it was enough.

Some part of her that hadn't died in the burn waited for Embry to come strolling up in his human form, half-clothed and grinning and ready to tell Edward every embarrassing Bella story in his arsenal. The gunshot that ricocheted through her mind was quiet.

"You staying?" Jake said to Paul. When the latter answered by walking away, Jake turned back to Bella. "All right. I'd better not regret this."

.

.

"The Volturi gave Alistair a deadline," Edward said. He kept running during his explanation, always staring forward, but to Rosalie, he looked like he thought he was standing at a podium, giving a lecture to a group of students. "It wasn't a real deadline—they didn't want to kill him and risk being stuck with the storms forever."

"Bet they conveniently left that part out," Emmett said.

"Yeah, he thought it was very real." Edward shoved his long sleeves up to his elbows. "After the Surge, they took him to Italy and told him, 'Hey, you'd better learn to control these storms by this date, or you'll be punished.' So, he did. He went to work with the Feds for a while, though the Feds still have no idea what he really is, as far as Demetri knows."

"I wonder if they'd kill him for that," Jasper said. "How far would they let him go before they decided to risk the storms?"

Edward shrugged. "Demetri wouldn't let him go far enough to be punished, I think. Anyway, Alistair worked with the energy, did experiments on time travelers… he's actually responsible for the Feds banning experimentation from non-official sources, from what I could gather.

"Demetri followed him for years, keeping an eye on him, and they became friends. Really good friends, actually. Demetri would probably leave the Volturi and start a coven of just himself and Alistair, but he's worried about something to do with someone named Marcus? And Didyme?" Rubbing his forehead as if trying to open Demetri's thoughts once more, Edward picked up speed. "It didn't go well for them when they tried to leave, I guess. So he stays with the Volturi as long as they leave Alistair alone."

"That's probably a wise choice," Jasper said.

"Yeah, I'm getting that impression. So, when Alistair was working with the Feds, he figured out how to predict when and where the storms would pull someone through time. That satisfied the Volturi for a while; he was able to warn them and tell them to evacuate. A few years ago, he managed to redirect a storm for the first time. So, no more storm damage in Volterra. Thing is, though, he has to put more energy into the earth in order to push them where he wants them."

Rosalie almost stopped. This was why the energy levels hadn't gone down over the years. This was why huge storms had started appearing with no warning, no spike in readings.

"When he redirects a storm, it doesn't pull anyone through time at all," Edward said. "Which is why there haven't been as many time travelers popping up. Still causes a hell of a lot of damage, though. As long as it doesn't impact the Volturi, they're fine with it, I guess. So far, his approach has worked. None of the guard have vanished except that first one, and she's back now. Demetri was lying through his teeth about that. He doesn't trust you, Rose. He thinks you just want to use Alistair to try to make yourself human again, and that you'll only get him in more trouble."

Of course. She should have known he would think that. It was, she supposed, a reasonable assumption. She had spent so long, wasted so many years trying to crawl back to the time when she was still warm and soft and fragile.

"So where _is_ Alistair?" Emmett asked.

"Near Ithaca. Fillmore Glen State Park."

Their first lab. The battle station Rosalie had set up with Carlisle, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice after the Surge. Taking Emmett and Edward's hands, Rosalie sped off toward home.

The trip back to Montana seemed to drag on, ticking by in scraps conversation and scattering animals. When they finally hit the forest that served as their hunting grounds, Rosalie's heart dropped to her knees. Wolves. The wolves' stench was all over the trees, all over their land. She ran even faster than Edward, desperate to reach the others. Her feet slowed only when they got within earshot of the house and a breeze gifted them with a giggle from… was that Tanya?

Inside, they found Seth lounging on the sofa, stuffing his face with a thick sandwich and allowing Tanya to paint his toenails a shimmery pink. Alice and Mary watched everyone, their backs pressed tight against the far wall. Garrett, arms crossed in a stance that mirrored Jake, stood between Bella and the rest of the wolves.

"What the hell did we miss?" Rosalie asked as Edward charged past Garrett and all but tackled Bella with kisses.

Tanya took her time about dipping the brush back into the polish and dabbing it on Seth's big toenail. "Oh, we have so much to tell you."

Rosalie laughed. "Yeah, well, likewise."

.

.

"Close your eyes," Jasper said, his voice like the distant roar of an ocean. "Don't think too much about it. Don't strain. It's your power to use; you've been doing so all along."

"What am I supposed to be looking for?" Bella asked. All she saw was a field of black.

"I don't know. It's your gift, not mine."

Bella cracked one eyelid open to glare at him. "Some help you are. I thought you were supposed to be an expert at teaching newborns to use their talents."

"I am, but everyone is different. I usually focused on more… violent gifts." Reaching across the table, he pushed her eye closed with one finger. "But your gift is just as valuable as those ever were. If Demetri can't track us, he won't be able to see us heading toward his friend. We don't want him to find out about the wolves. Not until we've fixed everything. You've been shielding Rosalie and Edward, at the very least. All you need to do is bring the rest of us into it."

"Oh, is _that_ all?"

"Shush. No backtalk."

"Or what? You'll give me detention?"

Amusement that was not her own bubbled around her shoulders and tickled her chin. Bella knew this was important. It could save them from getting on the wrong side of a member of the Volturi. If Demetri decided to fight them to protect Alistair from some perceived threat, he wouldn't come alone. Making jokes helped untangle some of the tension coiling in her throat, even if it accomplished nothing else.

"I'll make you write lines," Jasper said. "_I will not sass Jasper_. A thousand times." Clearing his throat, he tapped his thumbs against the edge of the table. "All right. Bear in mind, you don't need to shield everyone. Just the people Demetri has met. He can't track people he doesn't know. Now, think about Alice and Edward. Find them in the house. Is there anything different about them in your mind?"

Jessica's memory giggled through Bella's mind, prodding her to say, "Yes. Alice is cute and all, but I've never wanted to bounce a quarter off of her ass," but before she could, she realized there _was_ something different. When she thought of Jessica, she saw a blue light: dim and wavering. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, Garrett, and the wolves all inspired the same reaction once she looked deeper.

Jessica's light felt different from the others—empty, like words with no voice or breath. There was nothing left to protect. Bella wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tight.

It took the better part of an hour to accomplish it, but when she concentrated and quieted the instincts that shouted, "Wrong, wrong, wrong," she could make the other lights flicker out.

"What happened?" Edward said when she put out his light, but not the others. "Where did everyone go?"

"_Oh_," Bella said, opening her eyes.

Jasper leaned forward. "Did you do something?"

"I think so."

"Good. Do it again, and maybe I won't make you write as many lines."

.

.

Again and again, Jasper pushed Bella to expand her gift—to include more people and hold it for greater distances. Turning the lights on proved to be much more difficult than letting them fade away. Two miles was her limit, even with Edward. After that, she couldn't protect anyone, no matter how she tried. Jessica's hollow light was the exception.

Long before she felt ready, Jasper pronounced her to be so. Tanya headed back to Carlisle and Irina, while the others packed up what they couldn't stand to be without and headed toward New York. While they ran, Bella thought only of those blue lights, keeping them burning. Even when she felt ready to lose her grip on the others, she never let Jessica's light go out. Not once. She would carry on protecting her friend even though there was nothing left to protect.

Ithaca was an empty crater, populated by the dead. No animals ventured inside the yellow smoke and black ash. Traveling along the outskirts, they made their way to what had been Rosalie's first lab.

Wildlife tiptoed around the former state park, but no humans were nearby to tempt Bella's thirst. The old lab was a rundown cabin, expanded into a huge building by a hodgepodge of scavenged wood and windows. In a clearing off to the side, Bella noticed a row of squat wooden boxes that could only be Emmett's beehives.

Before they could knock or go inside, Alistair stepped out to greet them. He wasn't what Bella had expected. She'd imagined him as bigger than anything—a destroyer of worlds. Not this skinny, pale man with lank black hair.

Of all the things that must have been running through Rosalie's head at seeing him again, what came out of her mouth in a gasp was just two words.

"Your eyes."

Alistair's eyes were the color of honey, with no trace of red.

"Not many humans out this way," he said in a voice as rough as Emmett's manners. His lips moved like he was unaccustomed to forcing them to form words. "What do you want?"

"Not to be human, if that's what you're thinking."

With a disgusted scoff, Alistair turned his glare from her to the wolves. "Those things," he said, "are definitely against the rules."

"They aren't real werewolves," Edward said. "Not like you're thinking. They don't change with the moon, and they aren't…" He squinted and leaned closer, as if trying to hear a whisper. "They aren't cursed for life. They can go back to being regular humans."

"A mind reader," Alistair said through a sneer. "How novel."

"Just one experiment, Alistair," Rosalie said, pushing Edward behind her as she stepped forward. "A little one. With a mouse. That's all we're asking. If it doesn't work, we'll leave you alone forever. But if it does, we might be able to stop the storms for good."

During the staring contest between the two of them, Bella felt something sparkle in the air—something nudging her toward Rosalie's viewpoint, even though she was already there. She only just managed to avoid shooting Jasper a suspicious look. Digging her nails into the heels of her palms, she concentrated on those little blue lights. Glow, glow, glow.

"One," Alistair said. "That's it. After it fails, you'll leave me in peace."

"Deal."

.

.

The wolves drew their own blood. Not even Bella was allowed to be nearby for the process. She sat in the lab, watching Alistair explain his method in to Rosalie in a clipped tone. The pole in the center of the lab looked like a primitive version of the thing Emmett had dubbed Satan's Dildo back in Pendleton. When Alistair wanted to control a potential storm, he hooked himself up to it like the old ointment machine, filled up with blood, and looked deep into the energy he'd unleashed years ago.

For once, Rosalie let Edward help set up the machines. As they worked, the world tumbled into spring. Bella began to remember what it was like to feel tired. Every hour of every day, she kept those lights burning, concentrating on hiding everyone. It was like flexing a muscle she never knew she had. Instead of growing stronger, it felt ready to snap.

"You would feel better if you drank human blood," Alistair said to her.

"What?"

"It would help you with whatever it is that has you straining so much. It's your natural fuel."

Bella chose to ignore him. Edward had told her what he'd heard in Alistair's thoughts—the _real_ reason Alistair drank animal blood instead of human. It wasn't for lack of options. After working with them, he grew a conscience. Well, something almost like a conscience. He survived on animal blood because he wanted to minimize his impact, considering the storms he sent crashing toward humans to save his own hide. There were even a few Feds he'd grown almost fond of.

When the machine they would use for the experiment was finally ready, it looked like a cross between the ointment machine and a tank, big enough to hold five Bellas, with a tiny, reinforced window to allow them to view its contents. Edward, Mary, and Rosalie hooked Alistair up to it and to the pole in the center of the lab while Bella retrieved a jar of the wolves' blood from a reluctant Jake.

Their victim was another white mouse. Not Vincent; he'd received a permanent stay of execution after the experiment that left him with one tiny ear. The mouse that Rosalie fetched from a cage scrabbled over her palm and gnawed on her blank knuckle, shaking his head and making a sneezing noise when his teeth did no damage to her hard skin. Once he was inside the machine, Bella could hear him scratching around, exploring.

When Bella presented Alistair with the jar of blood, he shrank away from it. For a second, she thought he would refuse to drink, but then he took it and downed it like a shot of whiskey. As Mary started the machine churning and buzzing, Alistair closed his eyes in a way that made Bella wonder if Jasper had once been his coach, too.

The orange energy pulsing through the cracks in the hoses turned bright green as soon as it hit Alistair's body. It flowed down his arms and into the machine where the mouse sat huddled in a corner.

In contrast to what they'd experienced with Vincent, the whole process took almost no time at all. One of the mouse's fluttering heartbeats, and it was done. Like Vincent, the mouse shrank into a wriggling, pink baby, but this one stuck. It remained quiet and small, green smoke spiraling from its body, no pulse pounding in its chest. Rosalie looked numb as she pulled it from the machine and cradled the tiny, lost life in one hand.

"It felt different," Alistair said. "It was more like I was a conduit, not the source. Every time I tried to draw the wild energy out in the past, it always snapped back and caused a storm. I could push it, but I couldn't hold it. This time it was as if it was… tamed, somehow? Strange."

Bella allowed a sliver of hope to filter through the smoke and shine on her as she checked the readings. The level of temporal energy lurking beneath their feet had gone down. It was a tiny reduction—only a mouse-worth—but it was something. It had worked. After so many years of searching, this could be the right path.

"Will you try more?" she asked Alistair after showing him the results.

"One more," he said.

She was soon to learn that this was a popular phrase, where Alistair was concerned. One more was all the commitment he would ever offer.

"Are you all right?" Bella asked as she caught the arm of a stumbling Alice.

"I'm not sure," Alice said, shaking her head. "The dogs are still messing with my visions. I need some space to think."

When Alice moved toward the door, her gaze skipped over to Rosalie and Emmett. Shaking her head again, she rubbed her temples.

.

.

A bee landed on Bella's arm, scraping her skin with its stinger when she moved, but living to tell the tale. Emmett's hive had survived winter after winter on its own, making honey for only themselves. Nearby, a chorus of hearts pumped unappetizing blood. Against all odds, the wolves had taken to following Emmett around. It had started with Seth, the afternoon of the first mouse experiment. Within a day, Emmett had acquired four new shadows.

"Do you really have to kill the queen sometimes?" Bella asked.

"Occasionally, yeah," Emmett said. "After overwintering. Gotta make sure you have a new one first, of course. It's all about production. As the queen gets older, she starts having pheromone issues, laying problems, that sort of thing. Beekeeping is all very ageist, as far as the queen is concerned. Poor old girl. Too bad they aren't more like us. I'm going on a hundred and one, and trust me, I have _no_ laying problems."

One of the wolves—Quil, Bella thought—snorted. Stretching her arms overhead as she lost the battle against a laugh, she checked her watch. Five minutes, already. In ten more, she would have to get back to the lab. She had questions to send to Carlisle, research to do, more experiments to help plan.

Even though she killed animals all the time for food, the graveyard of test subjects they'd been accumulating made her feel as though she'd destroyed something innocent. Whenever possible, she avoided thinking about it.

"So," Emmett said, "has Rose said anything to you?"

"About what?"

"Come on. You know her. The second she saw those readings go down after the mouse, you know she started thinking about what would happen if she tried to absorb the rest of the energy herself—if it'd stop the storms for good. Putting all that energy into trying to change her was what started this whole thing, so I'd imagine a vampire could absorb more than any of the animals we've used. Personally, I think we should make Alistair do it, but I can't see him agreeing to that one."

Bella reached up, shooing a bee that had landed on her nose. "She hasn't mentioned it to me, but Edward has seen a few ideas like that going through her head, yeah." Ideas that had intensified with each new experiment, each larger animal they'd transformed back into a motionless baby. "He's also seen more than a few confusing visions from Alice, but he can't make sense of those. Neither can she, from what I gather."

"Hmm. Yeah, figured as much. It didn't work like this the first time. We tried it out on animals before we tried it on Rose, you know? The animals didn't die back then. What do you think will happen if she goes through with it? Another lost finger?" He swallowed hard. "Something more like the mouse?"

The thought of it—of Rosalie gone forever—tightened around Bella's throat until she thought she would suffocate, vampire or no. Rosalie's death would be like an echo of Jessica's: not quite as loud, but the same sound, the same pain, repeated.

She couldn't let Rosalie risk it. She would find another way.

A lazy bee circled Emmett's head before dive-bombing a patch of clover, as if it believed the myths about bees being able to pass between the land of the living and the underworld.

"I don't know," Bella managed to say. "I don't think that would happen, but it's not like we can change a moose and put it in the machine to test it out on something with vampire venom."

They could change a human, though. A Raider.

"That'd be something, wouldn't it?" Emmett said. "A vampire moose."

He proceeded to put his thumbs on his temples, wiggle his fingers, and do his impression of a vampiric moose—complete with sound effects.

Both of them pretended to laugh.

.

.

The lab reeked of wolves. Bottles and jars of their blood cluttered the shelves, each marked with Bella's distinctive scrawl. Jake's blood, they had discovered, offered Alistair the most control. Whether that had something to do with Jake being the Alpha, Bella wasn't sure. Watching Alistair out of the corner of her eye, she scaled a bookcase and poked around on the top shelf for the volume she wanted. Earlier that day, Alistair had replaced half as much energy as they'd already removed, pushing a storm away from Volterra.

"What's going on?" she asked as Emmett and his entourage of wolves entered the barn and Jasper and Rosalie left, the latter rushing back to make one last entry on her computer before Jasper took her elbow and turned her black eyes toward the woods.

"Miracle of miracles, Jas and I managed to talk Rose into going on a hunt," Emmett said. "Provided I take over for her and work my own fingers to the bone for a couple of hours. What about you?" Tugging Bella's ankle until she hopped down, he gave her a tired smile that reminded her of Charlie. "Aren't you thirsty?"

"Nah, I'm fine. Went earlier with Garrett and Alice."

It was true. The thirst was still always there, but not like it had been in the very beginning. Bella could almost control it now, instead of it controlling her.

At first, nothing out of the ordinary happened. Bella went back to her desk and contemplated sending another request for information to Carlisle while Emmett and the wolves sat near Alistair. Then, without warning, Emmett climbed into the machine that had transformed the mouse.

"What are you doing?" Bella asked, knocking a pile of notes off of her desk as she charged forward. "Emmett—"

"It'll be fine," he said with a wink. "What's life without a few risks? All right, guys. Go."

He slammed the door. The wolves moved against Bella's protests, hooking Alistair up to the machine as if they'd been working in labs as long as Rosalie or Carlisle. Only Seth even turned his head at the sound of her shouts. They grabbed containers of their own blood, pouring them into Alistair as the pole in the center of the room started moving and the energy flowed into Emmett.

It didn't take long. Bella broke jars and bottles of blood, threatening to bite all of the wolves unless they put a stop to it, but within minutes, the green light began to wane. The absence of adrenaline left her feeling hollowed out; she wanted pumping blood and heat in her face to match her mood as she sparred with Quil and Leah in her fight to reach Alistair. She let all of the blue lights in her head blink out, save Edward and Jessica. Unclenching that muscle at long last wasn't at all like release, but she kept the wall down. Let Demetri know where they were. Let him be nearby. Let him stop them.

A tiny sound made her freeze. Emmett's heart creaked and shuddered to life, beating once, twice, three times. The energy sputtered and fizzled out. Alistair staggered back, still shielded by Jake and Seth.

Emmett's eyes were blue, just as Bella had once imagined they'd been.

She pried the machine open and cried out as familiar lesions carpeted Emmett's skin—nightmares from a different life, moving too fast to be real. A cough slipped into a gurgle as blood sprayed from his mouth. Slumping to the floor, he went quiet. No heartbeat. No breath.

She fell on him, still screaming inside. She could save him. She could make him a vampire again. All she had to do was jump-start his heart and force her venom into his veins.

A desperate prayer rose up with each bite, each breath she forced into his wasted lungs, each press of her hands against his broad chest. If it worked—if she changed him—this would be the last human blood she ever tasted. She swore it. No slips. Not ever. Just let her have this one miracle and she would be perfectly behaved for the rest of her life. Please, please, please. Bite, breathe, press. _Please._

The taste was nothing—_nothing_. It didn't call to her. It was not like her dim memories of honey. She told herself she wasn't tempted to drink. She could resist.

Please.

His eyes were blue. His blood was cold.

Please.

"Bells. Honey. Oh, shit. I didn't think he'd…"

It wasn't Jake's voice that stopped her, but the arrival of Edward and Garrett. They came streaming in from the woods, followed closely by Alice and Mary. Too late. And oh, God, this wasn't an echo of Jessica's death. This was an entirely new sound, joining in and amplifying the first one.

Slamming himself against the wall, Edward covered his mouth and nose. He looked anywhere but Emmett's silent body.

"Did you know?" Bella asked him, the words tasting like dirt on her tongue. "Did you see him planning this?"

"I didn't," Edward said through his fingers. "I swear it."

"Jasper is the only one of you guys that he told," Seth said. "Didn't even tell Alistair until earlier today."

Even if she'd been human, Bella never would have been able to forget the sounds that erupted from Rosalie upon entering the lab. She would've carried those wails, those repetitions of, "No, no, no," for the rest of her life. Everywhere Bella looked, she saw eyes that wished they could still cry.

When the sobs quieted and the green smoke drifted out toward the stars, Bella realized that Alistair had vanished. During all of the commotion, he'd sneaked off. Knowing what Rosalie might do to the wolves once she found out the part they'd played in Emmett's final act, Bella ushered them outside and sent them on their way, though half of her wanted to let them face Rosalie's wrath. Watching Jake leave, she thought maybe it was fitting that she was a vampire and he was a werewolf. No matter how much love for him she'd carried over from her human heart, she'd always hate him a little, too.

Back inside, strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind, a mouth near her ear growing brave enough to breathe the blood-tainted air.

"I'm so sorry," Edward whispered, rocking both of them back and forth. "If I would've seen—"

"I know."

Across the room, Mary breathed out two words. "It worked."

Every machine in the lab showed no measurable temporal activity. Bella had always thought they would cheer to see the dials point to zero and the needles draw flat lines. It was supposed to be their Surge Independence Day, full of fireworks and laughter and celebration. The rest of the world would have that, soon.

In the lab, there was only silence.

.

.

It was Bella who found the letter. Emmett had placed it under a rock near his beehives, his block capital handwriting taking up the entire front of the envelope.

"_TO ROSE: IN CASE I CROAK OR GO INTO A COMA OR SOMETHING WHILE I AM STEALING YOUR THUNDER." _

By the time Rosalie gave the letter to Bella to read, it had been folded and unfolded enough times to make it feel like antique cloth. While she took in Emmett's parting words, Bella sat in the meadow with the bees. Their constant hum helped her feel closer to him.

_Rose,_

_Don__'t ever say I don't know you. Yeah, I guessed what you were planning. Couldn't stand the thought of you ending up like that mouse. Even writing it… yeah. I just can't. Maybe it's selfish of me to possibly subject you to seeing that happen to me. I don't know. I do know that whittling away at the energy using animals wasn't going to work. Alistair would've just kept putting it back in, pushing the storms away from the Volturi. Whether I'll actually be able to absorb any of it, I'm not sure. _

_I__'m half tempted to go find Tom Ashby, change him, and stick him in the machine, but I'm reasonably sure I'll walk away from this. It'd be just our luck if Tom ended up following us around for eternity, wouldn't it?_

_And hell, if this whole ordeal turns me human, change me back (if Bella and Edward haven__'t already eaten me, of course). Getting old doesn't look particularly fun._

_Like I said, I intend to survive, but if things go horribly wrong, then I__'m sorry. I know you're probably pissed off at me, which is fine. Not like I'm not used to it. I hate to think of you blaming anyone else for what might have happened, though. So just in case, to set the record straight: it was my idea, and mine alone. I kept the wolves close by, so Alice couldn't see, and shouted old country songs in my head, so Edward wouldn't hear. I had Jake order the other wolves to not think about it around Edward, too._

_I__'d say I'm sorry for doing it, but I'm really not. Not if it ended with you reading this letter, because that means whatever happened to me didn't happen to you._

_I lied when we fought, you know. I never stopped loving you. Not once. I wanted to, a few times, but I think I loved you more when you were a giant pain in my ass. And you don__'t have to tell me. I know you loved me, too._

_If I__'m gone, try to be happy someday, okay? Just… not with Carlisle, or I'll come back as a ghost and moon the two of you during romantic strolls._

_Is it too soon to be making jokes? Nah, what am I saying? It__'s never too soon. Remember that._

_Love always,_

_Emmett_

.

.

The swimming hole was as green as Edward's eyes had once been. As Bella perched on her favorite log, the water rippled in an early summer breeze. Already, she could feel the earth shifting back to its true self. The winds were changing.

On her knees, the scrapbook from Garrett and Jessica was open to its newest page. After Emmett's funeral, Garrett had presented her with a drawing of her and Emmett lounging on the grass near his bees.

They were her bees, now.

For all that she didn't need oxygen, Bella still felt like she needed to catch her breath—like she needed to slow her whirring brain and make space for the notion that Emmett was gone. Sometimes, she supposed, death was a slow ache, like Jessica's, and sometimes it was a thunderclap, like Emmett's. Love was like that. Life was, too.

Alice made her footsteps deliberate, crunching twigs and rustling through grass so Bella could hear her approach. By way of a greeting, she dropped a sheet of paper into Bella's lap.

The style wasn't as smooth and realistic as Garrett's, but as she looked at the drawing, Bella thought she could almost hear the laughter ringing from it. A coven of five—two mated vampires, three mateless—stood in a sagebrush-dotted field. The backdrop was a version of Pendleton that Bella had never seen outside of pictures: rebuilt and strong. She traced a finger over the inked lines of her own nose, over the figures of Edward, Garrett, Rosalie, and Mary. A smirking Mary had jumped onto Picture Bella and was stealing a piggyback ride for reasons Bella couldn't imagine. Picture Bella's mouth was open, forming words that made Edward's head tilt back with laughter and a grin take over Garrett's face.

It was Garrett's _real_ grin—the one Bella had vowed to bring back after Jessica died. And on Rosalie's lips, the tiniest smile was just starting to break free.

"Rose isn't ready to see that," Alice said, "but I thought you were. I've been having that vision every day since the wolves left."

"When is it?" Bella asked. "When will this happen?"

"The future," was the only answer she received as Alice stripped a few leaves from a branch and sprinkled them into the water. Silence crept up on them like Rosalie's smile, frightened away by the lightest sigh.

"It's going to be rough," Alice said. "You can't fix them."

"They aren't broken."

Everything in Bella that was still new and red bristled at someone else implying her friends were _less than_ for having loved Jessica and Emmett—that they were now incomplete. Lost, maybe, but Bella knew they were still _more_. Rosalie wouldn't repeat her mistakes, freezing in one place and forever searching for a past that had slipped away from her. They would stumble toward laughter, sharpened by grief and still fighting.

Alice's face relaxed. "Well, that's a good start." She dropped a final leaf into the pond, dusted her hands together, and sat next to Bella. "Jasper and I are going to go live with Carlisle. Rose won't speak to Jasper for quite a while, but we'll see you again."

"Where do you see us going?"

"Forward." Alice smiled. "Home, wherever that is. The storms aren't coming back, and I don't see any trouble from the Volturi. You can do whatever you want to do. I am, of course, always available for investment advice."

Silence spread out again, but sturdier this time—unbending and true. Tucking the new drawing into her scrapbook, Bella left Alice with a quick embrace. Beneath a clear, uncracked sky, Edward waited by the door of the cabin. Bella kissed him like it was the first and last time rolled into one. Her fingertips mapped the tattoos and crow's feet that had followed him from his human life. Taking his hand, she led him inside, toward the rest of their coven. Soon, she would pack up her scrapbook and her bees.

It was time to go home.


	21. Epilogue

_**A/N: **__As always, thank you for reading, and thanks to thimbles for pre-reading._

* * *

**Epilogue**

A monument to the falsely accused towered over sagebrush and sparse trees, over the grave of a forest that used to be. In the distance, the lights of a snow-dusted town sparkled. If any of the truckers who inched down the treacherous stretch of icy freeway happened to glance toward the monument, they would've noticed Rosalie trudging up the hill. None did.

It was still called Pendle Hill. Even with the balance restored and the Raiders all but gone, some things hadn't returned to normal.

Other scents, softened by the late spring snow, mingled with that of her coven on the path she took. Renee had been here, scattering flowers and thanks. Somehow, Bella's estranged mother must have guessed what the rest of the world had not. She knew who had saved them.

The wolves had come back to this place as well, some of them dragging their paws. The less Rosalie thought about them, the better. Some days, she wondered if it was only her love of Bella that kept her from tracking the wolves and making them pay, heaping on blame as if they were time travelers and she was a Raider. If not for her friend, Rosalie might have taken up her own red arm band.

There had been other vampires here, too; the former members of their organization had come to pay their respects. The potted purple hyacinth told stories of Carlisle's recent presence as much as his scent did. Plucking one of the star-shaped flowers, Rosalie held it up to her nose. These blossoms had once filled her home: apologies that had burst into color around the anniversary of her change.

She didn't miss them.

At the base of the memorial, she found the offerings from her coven: a jar of honey and a super villain's mask from Bella, a bottle of mead and a cupcake from Edward, a shot glass of blood (_really_, Mary) and some chocolates from Mary, two portraits and a tropical flower from Garrett. And there, on the last lines of the carved stone, were two names that appeared thanks to Jasper's legal acrobatics.

_Jessica Stanley (1987-2003, 2013-2015)_

_Emmett McCarty (1915-2016) _

There were other graves for them, she knew. Jessica's in Chicago and Emmett's in Ithaca. A weathered old stone in Tennessee stood as another memorial to him, placed over empty ground by his family years ago. Even so, this seemed closer to Jessica and Emmett's final resting place. Kneeling in the snow, Rosalie held her fingers just above the capital E of his first name, not quite touching.

Saving him from that bear was the best thing she ever did.

A minute or a year later, light footsteps whispered up the hill behind her. Familiar fingers combed through her ponytail, swept the snow from her shoulders. Like every other day of Rosalie's life, Bella was there, holding her as if she'd always been forgiven.

Instead of acting as Bella's shadow, Edward stood somewhere beyond Rosalie's senses, giving her space with her thoughts. Some wild flight of her imagination made her think she could feel him waiting for her return with a fresh argument or a request to drive her car—or both—poised on his tongue. And even though she could neither see nor hear them, she knew as surely as Alice would that Mary was telling a dirty joke she'd learned from Emmett, and Garrett was looking at a photograph of a smiling girl who had altered him more than venom.

"Do you need more time?" Bella asked.

Yes and no. Standing up, Rosalie let herself feel the weight of the invisible rope in her chest that still anchored her to something lost. The hand that squeezed hers was an anchor as well.

As Bella guided her down the hill, Rosalie looked back over her shoulder only once. If she could speak to Emmett, she wouldn't need to ask if he had loved her. Even without his letter—the one she still carried—she knew. If she was honest with herself, she'd known all along. But if she could, she might ask, anyway.

He would hold her close and kiss her as only he could kiss her. She would cherish every second, every touch. She wouldn't let any of it go to waste. And then he would speak the words that would wrap around her heart and prove that instinct, fate, or whatever else it was that drew them together knew what it was doing.

"I saved the world for you."

_The End_


End file.
